Fire and Ice
by cyropi
Summary: Hermione and Draco. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Muggleborn and Pureblood. Warm-hearted and frozen soul. Forced to work together, she shatters his beliefs with one well-placed question. And then the fun begins… (Complete)
1. Point of Origin

Point of Origin

****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or any characters in this story. They own themselves, obviously. *whisper from off-stage* What? Oh, ok. All characters and places e.t.c. belong to the oh-so-wonderful J.K.Rowling. 

**A/N**: What is there to say but… enjoy! Dedicated to the most wonderful friend in the world, and also my beta-reader (although my feedback from her tends to be 'fine. loved it.') Silent Shadow! Please review, and I promise it will be Draco/Hermione later on. I have much of this written already. I LOVE reviews! *hint hint*

~*~

Christmas had come and gone, and the first day of the new term at Hogwarts had dawned, fresh and crisp with the tail end of winter. The year had been quiet so far. There had been no attempts to murder Harry; in fact there had barely been any reports of Dark activity. It seemed Voldemort was biding his time.

            Thoughts of Voldemort were far from the minds of Harry, Ron and Hermione, as they left Transfiguration and headed to their last lesson of the day. Hermione went one way, to Ancient Runes, while Harry and Ron had Divination.

            'Have a good lesson you two.' said Hermione, smiling. She always loved the first day back at school, the smell of new books, the excitement of new topics, and the joy of having work to do after the long holiday. The pleasure of learning new things, getting perfect marks on a well-researched essay, these things had always been a source of happiness to Hermione.

            'Like there is such a thing as a 'good lesson' when some old bat is predicting your death every five minutes.' grumbled Harry.

            Hermione smiled her goodbye, and hurried off to the Runes classroom. 

            Not many people wanted to study Ancient Runes, although Hermione couldn't see why. They were a fascinating subject, full of the mysteries of ages long gone. It was amazing to think that people, wizards and Muggles alike, had once used these to write stories and poems and ballads. And of course, to divine the future, although that particular usage was taught in Divination.        

The Gryffindors had this lesson with the Slytherins, which meant there were nine or ten pupils. The teacher, Professor Scripta, was a smiling brown-haired witch, whose easy-going nature tended to result in a very noisy class. She seemed to have a perpetual tan even in winter, and wore glasses in front of her lively brown eyes.

            Hermione took her usual seat at the front of the class. She felt, rather than saw, Malfoy smirk at her maliciously from a few rows back. She threw him a returning glare over her shoulder. He and the rest of the Slytherins were the one drawback to an otherwise perfect subject.

            'Alright class,' the Professor beamed at her students, 'Today we are starting our new project, so get out some parchment and be ready to take notes.'

            Most of the class groaned, and dug in their bags for writing equipment. Hermione sat with quill poised, anticipating.

             'Your next project will concern the translation of the _'Laekalia'_, a famous wizarding story which was originally written in the runic language.' said Professor Scripta. 'Consider it to be the runic version of The Odyssey. We will be translating some of this in class, but most will be done for homework. Due to the complex nature of this story, you will be working on it in pairs.'

            A whisper of excitement ran around the class, as whispers of excitement generally did when working in pairs was announced.

            'I have chosen the pairs for this project already.' The teacher went on, and the class groaned as one entity.

            Professor Scripta took a piece of parchment off her desk, and walked around the classroom, pairing people up. Hermione sat, waiting patiently for the teacher to get to her. She wondered who she would be paired with. She had no special friends in this class, but it should be okay, as long as she wasn't with a Slytherin, and especially not…

            'Hermione Granger, you're working with Draco Malfoy.'

            **_Damn._**

            She threw a half pleading look at the teacher, but she had already turned away to pair up other people, completely unaware that there was a problem. Grumbling, she grabbed her bag and quills, and stormed over to where Malfoy was regarding her with impassive dislike. She threw herself into her seat, muttering about how fate really had it in for her.

            'You'd better not mess this up Malfoy.' she said through gritted teeth.

            Malfoy threw her a well-practiced sarcastic look. 'Of course _I_ won't mess it up. _You're_ the Mudblood.'

            Hermione bristled inwardly at this name, but showed nothing. 'I may be a muggle-born,' she remarked coolly, 'but I do have the top score in the class.'

They had no more time to exchange insults, as Professor Scripta was handing out thick, heavy copies of the _Laekalia_, talking meanwhile about the ancient history of the story, and Hermione had to stop arguing in favour of scribbling down notes. The books were old, bound in fading black leather, and imprinted with a gilt title.

The lesson progressed slowly. Hermione was still fuming about being forced to work with Malfoy. Of all the people to be stuck with for a project! He drove her to distraction with his sneers and derogatory remarks. Finally, the lesson ended.

'Wait a minute!' said Professor Scripta, as the bell went and students shoved their things into their bags, hurrying to get back to their common rooms and relax. 'Write down your homework.' She wrote on the board, in flowing yet jagged handwriting, 'Tonight's homework: translate the next five pages of the _Laekalia _with your partner. Bring your translation to tomorrow's lesson.'

Great. That meant wasting some of her precious time translating the story with Malfoy.

The class headed for the door like a flood, ebbing and flowing as they tried to pour through the door. Hermione turned to Malfoy.

'Library, in half an hour, and don't be late.' she snapped, then turned and walked out the door without even waiting for an answer.

            ~*~ 

            He of course, being Malfoy, was exactly on time. Somehow, he managed to make the act of not being late seem like a snub, as though he was saying 'I'm-better-than-you-because-I'm-a-Malfoy-and-I'm-pureblooded-and-simply-perfect.' Hermione tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous. There was no way you could be maliciously on time. But Malfoy managed it.

            They sat in silence at one of the library tables and began the translation, which was very difficult, as they wouldn't talk. 

            Hermione put a piece of parchment in the middle of the table and titled it neatly: 'Translation, pages 19-25 of the _'Laekalia' _She started scribbling on a piece of scrap parchment, trying to decode the runes. Just as she finished the sentence, Malfoy wrote it down on the parchment, having worked it out a second quicker. 

Hermione glared at him and was startled to find herself looking directly into his icy-grey eyes. They were not merely cold, but actually frozen, as if all his thoughts and feelings were hidden behind a vast wall of cold. A sarcastic look quickly formed, as if he realised she'd seen something, and Hermione quickly tore her eyes away.

            They continued the pattern they had set before, racing to finish the sentence before the other. Hermione felt curious as to the ice she had seen in his eyes. It was not merely the malicious chill of cold hate; there had been another kind of cold… But Hermione could not put her finger on it. __

            She distracted herself from this line of thought by looking over at the sentence Malfoy had just written down. 

'That's wrong. It should be 'Azura stumbled to the river.' not 'Azura struggled to the river.' The words are very similar, watch out for them.' she said sounding exactly like a teacher.

            With a casual eye, he looked over the sentence, crossed it out with a perfectly straight line, and wrote the corrected version next to it, without once showing any change in expression.

            They sat in silence for a few minutes, wrestling with the next sentence, which proved a difficult one. Finally Malfoy threw his quill down.

            'This sentence,' he said, 'is ridiculous. It could translate as, 'While she swam the river, she had to be careful of the jagged rocks below.' 'Meanwhile, she carefully swam the river above the jagged rocks.' or 'Are you pleased to see me or is that a broomstick in your pocket?'

            Hermione didn't raise an eyebrow. 'Actually, it couldn't be the third.' she pointed out needlessly.

            'I paraphrased. So sue me.'

            'It's a bit of a loose paraphrase.'

            He shrugged as if this wasn't his problem.

            Hermione considered the sentence carefully. 'Its, 'While she swam the river, she had to be careful of the jagged rocks below.' She triumphantly wrote the sentence down.

            'Why?' he asked, raising an irritated eyebrow.

            Hermione grinned in a know it all fashion, and pointed to a single rune. Malfoy frowned, then rocked backwards in his chair, looking upwards. 'I cannot believe a Mudblood realised that before I did!' He sneered at her, face full of hatred.

            'In your face Malfoy.' she remarked sweetly. 'And I wouldn't rock backwards like that, you'll fall over.

            'I won't.' he said, rocking further backwards just to show her. 'Although I'm touched by your concern.'

            Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to the translation. They only had a page to do and then she could get out of here and go back to Gryffindor Tower. Away from Malfoy and his obnoxious bickering. She was quite lost in this pleasant train of thought when suddenly…

            CRASH!!!

            Malfoy, regardless of his assurance that he wouldn't, had gone right over backwards and fallen, loudly, on the floor. The sight of him, lying on the floor and looking slightly startled sent Hermione into near-hysterics.

            'Oh yes, just laugh at the boy who fell over backwards.' Malfoy spat, not having moved from his position on the floor, and staring at some random point above him.

            Hermione made some effort to compose herself. 'Harry and Ron will die laughing when I tell them.' she said, before breaking into splutters afresh.

Malfoy pushed himself up slowly, almost gracefully disentangling himself from the chair, and setting it upright. 'Right, I'll leave you to finish this page.' He turned to go.

            'And where do you think you're going? This is supposed to be a group project remember.'

            'Away from you.' He glared, and left the library, cursing at his misfortune.

~*~ 

            Hermione hurried back to Gryffindor tower. The time she had spent in the library meant that she now only had an hour before dinner 

            She'd already done the Charms homework, in the half hour before she met Malfoy – it had been a small assignment, and she hadn't seen Harry or Ron since they split up before Runes, as they'd been practicing Quidditch.

            Hurriedly giving the password to the Fat Lady – 'Ignis.' – she entered the Gryffindor common room, and found Harry and Ron sitting by the fireplace, having a heated discussion about broomsticks that bordered on an argument. Hermione quickly stopped them by sitting down very deliberately in the armchair next to them, and giving a loud fake cough.

            'Oh, hi Hermione.' said Harry, only just noticing her. 'Where were you? Library?'

            'I'm not a library-obsessive you know.' Hermione glared, sinking into the warm red fabric. Her face flushed from the heat of the fire. The Gryffindor common room was one of the most welcoming places she knew, decorated entirely in warm crimsons and golds. 

            Harry and Ron gave her knowing looks.

            'Oh fine. I was in the library. I have more interesting things to tell you than the fact that you seem to be able to predict my every move.'

            'Did you get 110% on a pop quiz again?'

            'Ron, don't be stupid. We started our new project today…'

            'A new project! How could you live without it?'

            'Ron, can you please let me finish a sentence?' Hermione gave him a glare. 'Well anyway, we started our new project, translating the _'Laekalia', _it's a really famous book in the runic language, written about…'

            'Does this have a point besides the advertisement of some old book?'

            Hermione threw a gold-embroidered pillow at him. 'Yes, I was getting to it. We have to work with a partner the teacher assigned us to, and you won't believe who I got stuck with.'

            'Who?'

            'Malfoy.' she said glumly.

            The two boys were wide-eyed with sympathetic surprise. 

'Not THE Draco Malfoy?' 

            'The albino ferret who probably dyes his hair?' supplied Harry. 

            'Are there any other Malfoys in this school?' asked Hermione, suddenly feeling very sorry for herself. 'And now I have to spend time doing my homework with him. It is not fair.' 

            'Hermione,' Ron said, getting up and coming to face her, and speaking very seriously, 'I want you to know that if that evil ferret does anything to annoy you I will personally rip out his intestines and use them as Christmas tree decorations.'

            'Ron, it's the middle of January.'

            'Minor detail.'

            'Seriously though,' said Harry coming round her other side, 'if he is mean and generally evil, we'll avenge you.'

            'Maybe we should go with her to the library?'

            'I can handle Malfoy by myself.' Hermione said.

            'True.' said Harry. 

            The two boys sat back down. 'It mightn't be too bad having to work with him. It was quite funny this afternoon.' Hermione added thoughtfully.

            'Why?' asked Ron, obviously unable to find the concept of an afternoon with Malfoy 'funny'. 

            'He fell backwards off his chair.'

            The three caught each other's eyes and burst into laughter.

            ~*~

            **A/N**: Did you like it? Hate it? REVIEW!!!


	2. Broken Ice

Broken Ice

**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to J.K.Rowling! Not me! Though unlike most of the writers on here I actually have some money… *hides it from preying readers/lawyer people*

**A/N**: Wow! 19 reviews! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I haven't got time to thank you all personally (you do want to read this chapter right?) so I'm just going to list everyone: Tiger Girl, The Charmed One, MoonDancerCat, Lucy, KAOS, Black Dragon, FrootyTang, Theaterbrat, Crimson Firebolt, Tenebrae, AngelzGaze, Amo il ragazzo, HB, Simrun, VanillaStar, Kaitee/Jesse, Nicole, draconas, and the anonymous unnamed person! 

This is a rather weird chapter (It's the one with the 'question') Expect the unexpected… I tend to think in corkscrews. If I get any reviews along the lines of 'What the hell?' I'll put an explanation in the next chapter.

Enjoy!

~*~

Their next Runes lesson was just before lunch. Hermione reluctantly sat next to Malfoy, making sure she was as far away from him as possible. The table leg was digging into her knee, but she felt it was the best way to express her hatred of him.

'Have you brought the homework?' he asked across the stupidly wide gap between them.

'Of course.' She replied, pulling it out and setting it in the middle of the desk. He casually picked it up and read over the translation she had done.

'Class,' said the teacher, 'today, we will go over your homework first, and then do some translation in pairs.'

They went over the homework (Hermione and Malfoy had got it pretty well all right) and then were told to work in pairs on the next few pages, to be handed in at the end of the lesson with the previous nights work.

Hermione looked around. Everyone was talking animatedly with his or her partner. If they sat in silence, they would look conspicuous to the teacher. Sighing, she pulled her chair to a better position, and shoved her text in front of her.

They sat for a few moments in a tense silence, nothing to say, and no wish to talk to the other. Malfoy pointed to a rune.

'Does that one mean 'the house' or 'the home'?'

Hermione replied, 'The house. The sentence means 'The house was cool and dark after the heat of the day.'

He wrote it down in a careful rounded script. Watching this, Hermione remembered how handwriting was supposed to show personality. Personally, she thought it a load of nonsense, something that belonged in Professor Trelawny's room along with crystal balls, tea leaves, and continuous death omens. But there _was_ something in the way he wrote. Carefully, with perfect control. His writing was so neat she wanted to spill a bottle of ink over it. He acted the same way – guarded, controlled. Never letting anyone see what he really felt. Or at least, that was what she thought. 

The lesson soon finished, and the unfortunate class got a lot of homework. After a short and malevolent conversation, Hermione and Malfoy agreed to meet in the library at the same time as previously. 

Hermione swept out after the rest of the class, who had raced out of the door as soon as the bell had gone. She didn't bother to hold the door open for Malfoy, and smiled in vindictive pleasure as she heard the door swing shut in his face. He had to be the only person on earth who could infuriate her simply by _existing_.

It was a short walk to the common room, where she gave the password to the Fat Lady and threw a smile at Harry and Ron as she hurried upstairs to put her books in her trunk. She groaned as she eased out her copy of the _Laekalia_. It was far too heavy for any sane person to carry around. She was sure it would give her permanent back injury.

She gave her hair a quick brush through, examining it in one of Lavender's mirrors before heading back downstairs. 

'How was Runes?' was the first question Ron asked. 

'I presume you mean how did it go with Malfoy?' Hermione said. 'Considering you don't normally ask me how my lessons were, and only last night you were threatening to turn his innards into unseasonable decorations.'

'Well how was the evil ferret? Did he do anything to warrant his evisceration?'

'Big words, for such a small mind.' Harry said philosophically, whereupon Ron hit him in the head with a well-aimed cushion. 'Well what do you expect me to say when you use words I don't understand?'

'Eviscerate means to disembowel, Harry.' said Hermione automatically, grabbing the cushion and sinking into the couch next to them. 'And I don't suppose Malfoy did anything too evil. He hardly spoke to me.'

'Good.' said Ron, smiling and leaning backwards. 'I will content myself with an evil glare'

'Yeah, besides, you wouldn't want to disembowel Malfoy.' said Harry.

'Why on earth not?'

'Because Filch would probably have you cleaning up the mess.' Harry made a face. 'Imagine having to clean up Malfoy's intestines!'

And so the trio made their way down to lunch, arguing about the pros and cons of murdering Malfoy messily.

~*~

'Do you know why I'm better than you Mudblood?'

Malfoy's words broke the icy silence that had surrounded them for the past ten minutes. Hermione didn't respond at all, just scribbled on a piece of parchment. These library sessions were getting to be more boring than History of Magic lessons. Translate, write, glare. Repeat.

From Malfoy's perspective, if he was stuck with the 'Mudblood', he may as well try to have some fun out of it.

'There's the fact that I'm a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor.' he sneered. 'You see, Gryffindors pretend to be brave, but they're actually just too stupid to see danger. And then they throw themselves into peril and die and the rest of the world has to say it was 'heroic'. More like idiotic.'

He paused to see the effect of this statement on Hermione. She _was_ controlling herself pretty well. But she had an angry glint in her eye.

 Success. 

'Meanwhile, we Slytherins are far more intelligent. Cunning, resourceful, intellectual. Obviously better.'

He deliberately chose words that were intellect related. Hermione was, he grudgingly admitted, intelligent. And he also knew she took pride in it. Pride is just another place someone can hurt you. Pride comes before a fall.**__**

Hermione was pressing very hard on the paper with her quill now, as if trying to drown out Malfoy's voice with the scratching it created.

'And then, of course, there's the fact that I am a pureblood wizard and you are nothing but a…'He looked at her like one would a particularly nasty vomit patch, before continuing. 'Filthy Mudblood.'

The anger that had been simmering up inside her finally reached a critical mass, and she exploded, her eyes blazing. Entertaining, thought Malfoy, but far too easy.

'Will you just shut up Malfoy, you self-centred pig!'

He sighed. 'Such a disappointing comment. Really, Mudblood, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent. "Self-centred pig." A second-rate retort.' he mocked.****

****

She slammed her quill down, fury radiating from her like tongues of flame. 'Malfoy, shut up now! I don't want to do this project with you, I'd rather drink Bubotuber pus, but I actually _want_ to get a good mark on my OWLs, so shut the hell up now or I'll murder you, tear your body into pieces and feed it to my cat!'

He raised an eyebrow. 'I didn't know you had a cat?'

She glared at him, burning brown eyes meeting icy silver, but only for a second. Then she sat down again, her blazing anger burnt out, as though she just realised she was shouting. She picked up her quill, and started scribbling, a thoughtful expression on her face. After a few seconds, she spoke.

'If you really are so much better than me,' she began, managing to sound totally sincere and yet imperceptibly sarcastic, 'I have a question to ask you. Would you mind enlightening this humble Muggle-born with your infinite wisdom?'

'Of course. Ask away.' 

'Explain why Purebloods are better than Muggleborns.'

Her question was delivered crisply, neatly. It sounded, to Malfoy, exactly like the sort of question you would find on an exam paper, with a number of marks in the margin and five or six lines below for your answer.

_He didn't know the answer._

It was impossible. Insane. He was Draco Malfoy, a prefect in Slytherin house, son of one of the most influential of the Dark Lord's supporters. And he didn't know why Purebloods were best.

Hermione simply sat there, head bent over the translation, a small smile on her face. This was a battle. A war of words – who could outsmart the other. 

He couldn't let her win.

There had to be a reason, he thought frenziedly. Think, Draco. Be methodical. Was it intelligence? No, because Mudblood Granger was at least as smart as he was. And Crabbe and Goyle were Purebloods and as thick as two short planks. The same went for magical skill, there were many Mudbloods who were better at magic than Purebloods. And there wouldn't be any physical differentiation either. 

_So why are we better?_

Damned Mudblood! he thought, getting angrier every second. On the outside, he was calm and placid, in much the same way that the iceberg was placid before it punched a hole in the side of the Titanic. He should know this, he should have an answer. He should have an answer for anything. Why did he never realise he didn't know? He vowed to find out the answer. There must be one. He – and his father - were both too intelligent to plan their lives on mere prejudice. He hated his father with an icy cold loathing, but he'd never yet been wrong.

Hermione was still waiting for her answer. He couldn't make up a lie, because Granger would see right through it. Damn her!

'We simply are. I don't need to justify our superiority to a lowly Mudblood such as yourself.' He filled his voice with as much spite and contempt as he could.

She looked sideways at him, an annoyingly superior look in her eyes. 'Oh please tell me, Malfoy. I would love to learn from someone _so_ much more intelligent than myself.' She said sarcastically. She smiled maliciously, and turned back to the parchment.

'Stop smirking at me, Granger. You look like you have constipation.'

'Whatever Malfoy.'

He couldn't say anything that could turn the tables. She held all the cards now. She'd beaten him at his own game. And she knew it. And he hated her for it.

She sat in a satisfied silence, scribbling down the translations, while he watched, seeming calm. But inwardly, he fumed with anger. How dare she outsmart him? She was a Mudblood. How could she get the better of him? He had to think of something to even the score.

A few minutes later she finished, triumphantly writing the last word on the parchment. Her smug smile never left her face. She rolled up the parchment, put her things back into her bag, and turned to go.

'Wait, Granger.'

She turned and looked at him, questioning. And cocky. It made him want to strangle her.

He hadn't a clue what he was going to say. He got up from the seat, and stood directly in front of her. 

He realised, in a sickening acceptance of what he'd known all along, that he had absolutely nothing he could say to win. She smiled, waiting.

'What were you going to say, Malfoy?'

He glared at her. 'I won't let you get away with this Mudblood. You may have won this fight, but I'll win the war.'

'Really? I wasn't even aware we were fighting.' She said innocently, and turned to leave. Of course she knew they were fighting. She knew and she won. And he couldn't let her. He couldn't.

He grasped her forearm; pulling her roughly around to face him, and glared with the force of a freezing snowstorm directly into her eyes.

'Don't lie to me Mudblood.' he hissed.

She frowned suddenly and pulled away sharply; He glanced at her arm and saw half-moon dents in her skin from his fingernails. Had he meant to do that? A drop of blood appeared, bright red and glowing. Hardly a scratch but still… Why had he done that? Had he decided to? Was it accidental?

She looked at him, eyes full of disgust, turned and left. This time he didn't stop her. He had the feeling that something had just gone horribly wrong.

~*~

            **A/N**: Well what did you think? REVIEW!!!

 In the next chapter: Intestine omelettes, pink flowery socks, and a rather interesting curse.


	3. Frozen Heart

Frozen Heart

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. Does that satisfy you Mr. Lawyer-Person?

**A/N:** Wow! 39 reviews! I never thought I'd get so many… *daydreams about standing on a stage, surrounded by millions of cheering fans, throwing roses at her that are for some reason black* Oh… sorry. Got carried away. Well here is a list of all the wonderful people that reviewed! Jaime Wood, KAOS, JAMtillDawn, allee kat, KitKatt0430, Selenay, stephanie, iceheart-04, Inu-chan, bunny, Sophiebabe, shivohnsongbreeze, , shibbydragongirl, lily luna, Vanillastar, Simrun, Eriol's bear and Random Anonymous Person 1 and 2! Sorry if I missed anyone!

Doubly special thanks to the tremendously brilliant Amo il ragazzo, who must have written the longest review ever to exist! Yes I am writing a book, but it's too complicated to explain here. I did put it into this story though, can you guess where? It's the Laekalia! All the scenes, characters and plot bits you see in the Laekalia are actually parts taken from the book. (Which won't be called the Laekalia by the way.) 

I hope you all enjoy Chapter Three! Don't forget to review!

~*~

Luckily for Malfoy, the Gryffindor common room was a five minute walk from the library, giving Hermione a chance to cool down. She stepped through the portrait hole still angry, but having decided that to tell Harry and Ron would probably result in numerous murders. And expulsions. Malfoy wouldn't dare do it again… he was just wound up because for the first time in his life he lost an argument. Hermione smiled secretively to herself.

She made her way over to the two boys, who were sitting in a well-lit corner talking. About socks.

'Why on earth are you talking about socks?' she said, sitting down on the sofa next to Ron.

'Good question. Why are we talking about socks?'

'Don't ask me.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Well I'm asking you Harry. Why on earth would two teenage boys spend their evenings talking about socks?'

'I think it was just one of those things where you get a long chain of conversations which lead on to strange topics.' Harry replied. 'Oh, and I found a pair of pink flowery ones in the bottom of Ron's trunk.'

Hermione snorted.

'I'm telling you, they're Ginny's. We must have mixed them up when we were packing.' Ron glared at Hermione who couldn't keep a small smile off her face. The thought of Ron wearing pink flowery socks was hilarious. For one thing they'd clash with his hair. 

Harry was still spluttering, and Hermione was fighting hard to keep a manic grin off her face. Ron looked defiant.

'It's ok Ron, we believe you.' Hermione reassured him. 'It's just the idea of you wearing pink socks…' she trailed off with a splutter. Pretty soon, they were all laughing.

The topic soon turned to what socks they were wearing at the moment. Ron revealed a boring pair of black socks, and Harry was wearing the mis-matched pair Dobby had given him, which sent them into a fresh bout of hysterics. This was the life, thought Hermione. Spending your evenings in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by friends, and laughing over some strange and random subject. 

They finally recovered, and Hermione found herself almost wishing she'd worn more interesting socks than the plain sky-blue ones she had put on this morning. She told them this, and they all burst into laughter afresh. It was quite possible, with the giddy mood they were in at the moment, that the Apparition of Voldemort himself would probably send them into further hysterics. Hermione bent down to take off a shoe.

'What's that on your arm?' Harry asked suddenly. Drat. Her sleeve had slipped up.

'Oh, nothing.' She said smiling brightly and smoothing her sleeve. 'Look at my socks, aren't they a lovely shade?' 

The giddy air suddenly disappeared like a feather in a force nine gale.

'What about your arm?' asked Ron.

'You're not fooling me that easily.' Harry said. 'Let us see.'

Slightly worried – she'd rather not make a fuss and they were certain to over react – she pushed up her sleeve to show them the damaged forearm. It did look worse than it was. The drop of blood that had been there before had run down, almost to her wrist, and the nail marks were still surrounded with an angry red.

Even though conversations were going on all around them, in their corner it seemed suddenly quiet.

Harry spoke first. Very calmly, he said 'Do you want to kill him Ron, or shall I?'

'I'll rip out his intestines,' replied Ron, 'and eat them on an omelette.'

'Fair enough.' said Harry, standing up and heading for the portrait hole.

'Oh no you don't.' said Hermione, grabbing him by the shoulder. 'It's a scratch for goodness's sake. And I'm not having you go and get expelled.'

'We're not going to get expelled.' replied Ron. 'We're going to murder him in a dark and secret dungeon and leave his mutilated body where no-one can find it.'

Hermione looked back and forth between the two boys. They wore near identical expressions of calm anger and something similar to determination. And their minds were totally set on murdering Malfoy.

On reflection, they were taking it better than she had expected. 

'Look you two, its hardly anything. We had an argument and he just… overreacted. It was my fault for winding him up. It's a _scratch_…'

'Oh, sure, it's a scratch today.' interrupted Ron. 'Let him get away with this, there's no telling what he'll do. Today it's a scratch, then a cut, then before you know it he's got you under the Cruciatus curse and…'

'Ron,' said Hermione, kindly breaking him off mid-flow, 'be sensible for a minute. For one thing, the Cruciatus curse is very advanced, no one would be able to do it in fifth year, and secondly you're starting to rant. Sit down.' 

Hermione's look was so commanding that the boys sullenly obeyed.

'There is no point in going off and murdering Malfoy, it was mostly my fault for provoking him anyway, and if you did you'd almost certainly get expelled, and…'

'Yes McGonagall.' interjected Harry. 'Oh fine then Hermione,' he said, seeing her retaliating glower, 'there's no need to lecture us. We wont annihilate Malfoy.'

'We won't?' asked Ron, looking disappointed.

'Not yet. Maybe later.'

'Can't we slightly kill him?'

'What are you on about Ron?' said Hermione. 'Slightly kill someone? Either they're dead or they aren't. There's no slightly about it.'

'Ok then.' he said. 'But if he hurts you again, I'll rip out his innards, feed them to some Blast-Ended Skrewts, and throw the bloody remains of his body into the lake for the giant squid to eat.'

'Nice imagery.'

'Thanks.'

~*~

Meanwhile, the subject of these violent discussions was lying on his bed, many floors below them, in the Slytherin dungeons. He was thinking.

What was the dammed reason? There had to be a reason. He couldn't just have been brought up his whole life on a prejudice-born lie! He was smarter than that. Or at least he thought he was.

But he'd thought of everything. Every possible area where Purebloods could have superiority, and there was something that showed it to be impossible. Intelligence, magical strength, physical strength, everything – there were always some Mudbloods that proved the hypothesis _wrong_. 

Damn that Mudblood Granger! Why did she have to ask that question? He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. He'd rather have remained ignorantly prejudiced. She had no idea of the problems it would cause if he started thinking Purebloods weren't superior. His whole life had been built on that one truth, and then to realise it's a lie?

He cursed Hermione with every curse he could think of. Damn her! This was all her fault. She had to go and ask that question, and now he didn't know what to think. It felt to Draco, although he would never have admitted it even to himself, as though believing that Mudbloods were inferior had been like being locked in a very dark room of ignorance. And Hermione had opened the door, allowing in a flood of light that was so violent he wished he had never seen it, wanted to be back inside the dark room he had never really known he was in. And, although again he would deny it even to himself, he felt the beginnings of respect.

His father would _kill _him if he knew what he was thinking. Potter and Weasel were probably going to kill him anyway when they found out what he did to Granger's arm. He really shouldn't have done that. He didn't mean to – he just did it without thinking. Maybe if he apologised tomorrow? What was he thinking! She's a Mudblood. You don't apologise to Mudbloods. But _why not_? 

He wondered briefly if she felt how cold his skin was. He was pretty sure she felt his fingertips at least, most likely his palm as well. But did she _notice_? Hopefully not. The last thing he needed was a damned Gryffindor finding out about the curse. She'd probably try to help.

Draco smirked to himself. The thought was humorous. As far as he knew the Glacios curse had no cure. Then again most of the books he knew that would list it were in the Restricted Section, so there could well be. He hoped there was. Being permanently freezing was not the most fun thing in the world. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm.

It had been over the summer, when he had… irritated his father one too many times. It had been a punishment. And ever since Draco hadn't felt warmth. Not the warm flickering of fire, not the gentle glow of the sun. Only the permafrost that surrounded him.

Arctic colours. Silver hair and grey eyes. Cold features, icy skin, frozen heart.

~*~

Potions was the first lesson of the next morning. A whole hour sitting in the grim dungeons, Snape prowling the desks like meanness personified, praising the Slytherins and criticising the Gryffindors.

Naturally, not many of the Gryffindors looked forward to the lesson.

The corridor outside the potions dungeon was drab and dull, cold grey stone walls, lit mainly by magical torches in keeping with the medieval dungeons. The light, therefore, was sparse and flickering, giving the corridor a surreal look. The combined classes of Gryffindor and Slytherin thronged the corridor, each house keeping to one side as if there was an invisible line that they could not cross. They chatted amongst themselves, awaiting the arrival of the teacher.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were productively wasting the time before they went in by glaring at Malfoy, who was standing in one of the half shadowed areas with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him on either side. The silver-haired boy said something to his 'bodyguards', who nodded stupidly. Not one emotion crossed any of the three boys' faces. In one case this was from a well-practiced ability and perfect self-control. In the other two cases it was unfortunately from stupidity.

'Git.' said Ron with feeling.

'Remember what I told you. No murder.'

Snape chose that moment to make his entrance, looking exactly like the Grim Reaper would if he had misplaced his scythe and was pretty angry about it. The classes pushed reluctantly towards the entrance after him.

The three Gryffindors waited until about half the class had entered, before turning to join the crowd. Hermione threw a last glare over her shoulder at the spot where Malfoy had been, but he was gone.

She had barely taken two steps towards the door, however, before a voice cut her off in her tracks.

'Granger.'

That was Malfoy's voice. She subconsciously felt Harry and Ron tense next to her, and was glad of it.

'What?'

'I apologise.'

This was probably the one sentence Hermione had never expected to hear him say.

'Apologise?' she spluttered, shocked.

'For last night. Your arm. Is it alright?'

He had a glint of malice in his eye, and despite his neutral voice, didn't seem to want to apologise at all. Hermione wondered why? He hated her, and she hated him. So what had caused him to apologise? She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. When Malfoy failed to disappear, she pulled herself together and said in a voice that sounded too faint to be her own, 'It's okay.'

He gave her a violently brief nod, and with perfect grace, turned and joined the remaining stragglers that trickled through the door.

'Did Malfoy just apologise,' said Hermione weakly, 'or was I hallucinating?'

'If you were hallucinating, I was.' said Harry.

Ron looked doleful. 'I bet someone slipped something into the eggs. I thought they tasted funny.'

Harry and Hermione just had time to give Ron a very weird look before the three of them had to enter the classroom.

~*~

**A/N: **So, Draco seems to be getting the shimmering of a conscience! I hope you all like it. Poor Draco though – that Glacios curse doesn't sound like fun! In case you missed it/didn't understand it, it's basically a Dark curse his father cast on him as a punishment, with the effect of making you feel like you're permanently freezing. If you want to get the idea, go fill the bath on only the cold tap, and drop in a few ice cubes…

Please review! All flames will be sent to Draco – he needs them! Poor Draco…


	4. Learning You Were Wrong

Learning You Were Wrong

**Disclaimer**: It all belongs to JK. Not me. Only things that are mine are the plot and the Glacios curse *stamps copyright symbol on them*

**A/N**: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers!!! *takes deep breath* Kaitee/Jesse, HB (x2), Kirina, I Dunno, CatalianaRose, allee kat, L. Meylan (x2), Draconis Summers, Syaoran Girl (x2), me, Akuma Canadian Angel, Aniron, GwenFitz, bug-a-lugs926, firey fairy, aquamarine angel, KAOS, SophieBabe, Goddess-Isis-112, Lexy, angel-in-disguise, EvilFireWitch, Sila-chan, iceheart-04, shibbydragongirl, MoonDancerCat and Amythest-Angel462!!!

~*~

One of the things Hermione normally liked about Runes was that, like Arithmancy, there were quite a lot of lessons per week. Due to the difficulty of the subjects, there was only one day out of five in which they didn't have a lesson. Hermione didn't know how they managed to sort out the timetables, but she suspected magic had a hand in it. Usually Hermione liked these lessons, but now that she had to work with Draco she was starting to dread them.

That day's Runes lesson was directly after lunch, and so at a quarter past one Hermione was once again sitting in the classroom next to the pale haired Slytherin. After being instructed about a difficult rune they had not previously come across, the class was quickly assigned to work on the next few pages. Hermione and Draco fell into a stubborn silence, a black hole surrounded by a whirling constellation of chatter.

Hermione sat in silence, half her mind occupied with the translation, and the other half on other things. Mostly Draco, of course, and his uncharacteristic apology this morning. What had happened? Why had he apologised? 

The mysteries of a Malfoy's mind were difficult to penetrate, and after a few half hearted and wild ideas she was forced to give up. It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical.

She supposed she might as well ask.

'So why did you apologise?' she asked. If Draco was surprised at her question he didn't show it.

'Good manners.' he replied without looking at her.

'I didn't know you even knew what manners were.' Hermione gave Draco a sideways glance. 

'Of course I know what manners are. I have been brought up properly.' He said with a trace of annoyance.

'Really? I've never seen you use them.' 

'Well I wasn't taught to use them with Mudbloods.'

Hermione glared at him, smoothing back a few hairs that had fallen into her eyes. He glanced towards her, grey eyes meeting brown for a tenth of a second, and gave her one of his signature smirks.

She decided that a retort would merely lead to argument, and went back to her original question.

'So why _did_ you apologise this morning?'

Draco completely ignored her, and scribbled down a sentence in his impeccable handwriting.

'Are you going to answer me?'

'Maybe after you're dead?'

Hermione rolled her eyes, and went back to the translation. 

'The problem with you' began Draco after a minutes pause, 'is that you're a total bookworm. Always at class at time, love all the subjects... so sickeningly _good_.'

Even though this was what she strove for normally, something in Draco's manner made Hermione want to argue back. It irritated her. She didn't _want_ to argue, but he knew exactly how to irritate her into quibbling.

'I don't love all the subjects. I can't stand Divination.' she pointed out.

'Divination?' he asked, giving her an intrigued sideways glance that made her instantly think of a cat.

'And Potions, I suppose,' she added with some resentment, 'but that's only because of Snape being a biased prejudiced...'

            Draco cut in, now tilting his head to look at her full on. 'Yes, I think I knew that already. But what about Divination?'

            'It's stupid, and very woolly, and a load of guesswork.'

He looked affronted. 'It is not all guesswork.'

'Yes it is. All I ever did was pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves and crystal balls and...'

He cut in on her again. 'You used to take it?'

Hermione nodded. 'I quit about halfway through. Professor Trelawney said I 'didn't have the right aura.'

If he didn't know that oh-so-perfect-Hermione didn't insult her teachers, Draco would have sworn he heard her mutter something about a stupid old bat.

'Well some people don't have the right aura. It can't be helped.' he said patronisingly.

'And I suppose you have the right aura?'

'I do, actually. My grandmother was a Seer. It's in the genes.'

            Hermione rolled her eyes, and double-checked the sentences Draco had written down. Annoyingly they were right.  It was almost as if she wanted him to get them wrong, so she could point it out. 

            Slowly the class wore on, seeming that it would never end. The story they were translating, though, seemed to be at a good part, and the class was full of whispers over the characters' predicaments. Hermione looked over the paragraph they had just finished, and read it aloud.

            _'Suddenly, Azura was grabbed by the arm. In the space it took to draw breath, a hand had been clamped over her mouth, stifling her stillborn scream. She was whirled into a side alley, and found herself looking directly into the silver-grey eyes of her attacker. The silver-grey eyes which flashed into green… He was one of the dark race, a Tenebrae…'_ Hermione gasped. 'But she'll be killed!'

            'Why do you think so?' asked Draco, amusedly.

            'Well, it's one of the _Tenebrae_.' Hermione said, staring at him. It should be obvious! 'We know they're evil, I mean, they attack all the villages… they killed Chandra's parents…'

            'It's the basic plot of most books.' Draco drawled, sounding bored. 'Person X, who is of the 'good' side, runs into Person Z, who is supposedly of the 'bad' side, turns out not to be, they have a passionate romance and save the world.'

            'That is _not _the basic plot of most books. I've read hundreds nothing like that.'

            Draco replied in the patient tones usually reserved for very slow toddlers. 'I was referring to wizarding books, not your Muggle ones.'

            'So you think Azura will have a romance with this… Tenebrae?' Hermione asked, gesturing towards the parchment. If there was one thing Draco was good at, it was annoying her. 'No chance!'

            'They will. _And _they'll 'save the world.'

            'No way. He's evil. Chandra will probably kill him, and they'll escape.'

            Draco grinned, the kind of grin that a psychopathic sadist makes before doing very gruesome things to his victim.

            'Want to bet on it?' he asked.

            'Five Galleons they don't get together.'

            'Deal.'

            They worked on, and to Hermione's annoyance the Tenebrae was not killed, and did not appear to want to kill anyone. She could sense an air of smugness radiating from Draco that made her want to rip out his tonsils.

            'Any other famous stories you don't like? ' she asked, trying to keep some air of civil conversation. 

            'Thousands.'

'Tell me one.'

Draco examined his quill, thinking. 'The Trojan War, for one. The whole wooden horse part.'

'I'd have thought that would have been just your thing. The whole, 'I am a Slytherin, I am cunning and evil, I will trick you into defeat' complex you seem to have.' teased Hermione.

Draco made a quick retort. 'Like your, 'I am a Gryffindor, I am brave, I will run recklessly and suicidally into danger and get blown to pieces by Dark curses' complex?'

He used exactly the same sarcastic tones as Hermione had. She glowered at him.

'I have no problem with the whole wooden horse idea.' he went on, 'It's the Trojans that annoy me. 'Oh look, the Greek army have gone, and they've left us a wooden horse just big enough to fit a few hundred soldiers armed to the teeth inside, and still have ample room for sanitary facilities! What a lovely gift! Let's wheel it into the city!' How stupid can you get? Stupider than you Gryffindors, and that's extremely difficult.'

            'Ok, enough with the inter-house rivalry.'

            'Fine, I'll stop.'

            He paused just long enough for the look of surprise to register on her face.

            'But that just means I'll move on to blood rivalry.'

            Hermione glared violently at him, and the conversation melted away like snow, replaced by the stony silence.

            After a few minutes she mumbled 'I suppose you have a point with that Trojan war thing.'

            'Yes, I do.' he replied, and they didn't speak again until the end of class.

~*~

The Slytherin common room wasn't cold, contrary to popular belief. Despite its placement amongst the dungeons, a mixture of fires and spells kept the rooms warm night and day. It wasn't dark, either; high windows that came above ground level let in daylight.

But Draco didn't care whether it was warm or cold. He could only feel the eternal ice of the Glacios curse. Few of his fellow Slytherins knew of the curse, none cared. For while the room itself was warm enough, another kind of coldness hung over the place. While 'evil' Slytherins were mostly in the minority, even those who were not amongst the Dark Lord's followers were still remote and unfriendly. It was a part of who they were. Slytherins were cunning, ambitious and often power hungry. Success in these fields meant keeping your distance, not letting yourself become too attached to people, lest they be used against you. Searching for weaknesses in others, and turning them to your benefit. So, while some Slytherins had friends they could laugh with, most merely had allies. Their common room was a land without trust. Trust brought weakness.

Draco Malfoy sat in his usual seat, close to the back of the room, away from the fire. The hierarchy of Slytherins was subtle. Most of the people who had forced their way up the ranks sat at the front, in the best seats near the fire. Draco did not need to sit there. He had been born into one of the oldest wizarding families, long-time supporters of the various Dark wizards and witches throughout the ages, and was feared and respected by students both old and young.

So he sat at the back, a shadowed ghost that needed only its presence to command respect. He preferred the quiet, empty seats away from the main group of people. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting to his right, playing, of all things, chess. And playing it badly.

Draco was thinking. To be more precise, he was mentally cursing Hermione with every curse he knew. It was her fault, this. His father had taught him to hate Mudbloods. His whole life had been centred on that one belief. And now? Hermione – no, _Granger_ - had shattered it all with one well-placed question. And even more irritatingly, he had begun to respect her for it. He wished he could just ignore it. Forget about it; go back to his old beliefs and old ways. He had tried in the Runes lesson, tried to insult her and Mudbloods… but it was impossible. She had caused him to question why Purebloods were better, and he hadn't found the answer. He was a creature of logic, and when he found something that was not logical, he could not force himself to believe.

No one must ever know, of course. He would continue as normal.

But could he? Knowing that there could be no reason for Pureblood superiority, could he whole-heartedly continue insulting and fighting and go on, eventually, to join the ever-increasing ranks of the Death Eaters?

He couldn't. And he hated himself for it.

~*~

**A/N: **Did you like it? I know not much happened – but there's some important information in there. And in chapter five I can promise you that lots of things happen… Can anyone guess where the chapter name comes from? Clue: It's a Disney song. First person to guess wins some virtual chocolate!

Also, I'm going to start sending out emails when I update. If you'd like me to send you one, tell me your address in your review!****


	5. Discoveries and Danger

Discoveries and Danger

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful Draco, Hermione, Ron, Harry… just about everything here does not belong to me. Except the plot. And the Glacios curse.

**A/N:** WOW!!! 100 reviews! *does strange little dance* Thank you everyone!!!  Reviewers: KAOS, Sianna (x2), HB, Jaime Wood, iceheart-04, Amythest-Angel462, aries, Sanaria, Cheshire, Dawn, Amo il ragazzo, soul of fyre158, Starlight, kath, Rowna (Seria, EvilFireWitch, hyper_shark, L.Meylan, ilovespike-02, MoonDancerCat, shibbydragongirl, Goddess-Isis-112, Mandemi, Christa, Pallida Mors, XtremeNusiance, M-chan, and Tinuviel Henneth! 

*gives chocolate to everyone who said Beauty and the Beast – double to those who said the name of the song!* 

Anyone who wants to be emailed when I update, please tell me in a review – and leave your address!

This chapter may be a bit confusing – it flips through a few weeks of time and has a dream sequence in italics at the end.

~*~

Days passed. By the end of the week, Hermione could no longer say honestly that she hated Draco. True, he was annoying, insulting, cruel and unkind – but the malice had vanished.

They were still working slowly through the Laekalia. Much to Hermione's annoyance, and Draco's glee, the Tenebrae (called Zyax) had not been murdered, and was in fact becoming one of Azura's friends.

'They still won't get together.' she said sulkily.

'Oh yes they will.' Draco replied, a smug grin on his face.  Hermione glared at him. 'You might as well admit it, Granger. Dig out those five Galleons.'

She glared at him. 'You can't be certain they'll get together unless you've read the book before.' Draco wore an extremely crafty grin, scribbling neatly on a piece of paper. Realisation dawned. 

'You have read the book before, haven't you.' Draco didn't reply, just smirked wider. 'You absolute, complete, utter…'

Words failed her.

'I'm an absolute, complete utter? He raised an eyebrow, delighting in annoying his partner. 'You have a wonderful way with words.' 

She glared. Draco smirked at her, and crossed his arms. Suddenly he winced. 'Damned quill.' he said, examining his hand. He had somehow managed to dig a long, deep scratch in his flesh.

'That looks painful.' Hermione said, not unkindly but not in a particularly caring way either. A trickle of blood ran down his wrist, to disappear beneath his sleeve. Draco swore beneath his breath.

'I think I have a handkerchief in here somewhere…' she said, rifling through her schoolbag. 'Here.' She handed him a simple, white square of fabric.

'Thank you.' he said, dabbing at the blood. He may be the most annoying, egotistic, self-centred, cruel entity in the entire known universe, but he knew his pleases and thank-yous. Hermione watched as he dabbed at the cut, which did relatively nothing to stop the thin trickle of crimson.

'Oh, for goodness' sake!' she exclaimed, reaching over to pull the handkerchief out of his hand. 'Tie it round the cut, don't just…'

But she stopped, because he had jerked away from her as if afraid of being touched. Hermione was confused. Was Draco afraid? Angry? Was it because she was Muggleborn? A spark of suspicious dislike flared where once there had been a bonfire. 

Clumsily, he attempted to wrap the cut one handed, keeping a wary eye on her. When he started trying to tie the knot, Hermione lost her patience.

'Come _here_. Let me tie it.'

He tried to pull his hand away again, but she managed to catch his fingers. This time, she was the one who jerked away from him.

'You're freezing!' she exclaimed, wide-eyed with surprise.

'I _had_ noticed.' he snapped back. There was a cold anger burning in his eyes that would have rooted her to the spot with fear had she not been too confused to notice.

He had felt so cold… it was like ice… but how could he be so cold and not dead?

'It's a curse.' he snapped grudgingly, glaring at her. 'A Dark curse. Known as the Glacios curse.'

She looked puzzled. 'And?'

'And what?' He slumped slightly in his seat, an arm defensively across his chest, one hand holding the handkerchief in place. His eyes glittered with rage as he glared at her murderously. Hermione felt extremely uncomfortable, but her curiosity won out. 

'Well… what exactly does it do? Who cast it on you? Can it be cured?' She asked the questions very rapidly, as if afraid that if she paused Draco would shout at her.

He answered her shortly and snappishly. 'The first question, it makes the sufferer feel constantly freezing. I'm not entirely sure quite how. And it stops them feeling any external heat source. The second question, my father. The third question, probably but I don't know how.' 

'Your father cast it on you?' Hermione was shocked. She knew that Draco's father was not the nicest of people, as a probable Death Eater. But she had never thought he might use Dark curses on his own son.

Draco nodded shortly, not meeting her eyes. Now, although he looked just as angry, there was a touch of something else behind his eyes. Something almost painful.

'But why?'

'I annoyed him.'

Hermione decided not to push him any further on that point. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but she realised that Draco probably didn't want to tell her. There was an uncomfortable silence. Draco glared at Hermione, then abruptly stood and stormed out of the room like an angry thundercloud.

Hermione bit her lip, gazing after him with a thoughtful yet worried expression. Well, it at least explained a lot about Draco. No wonder he was so horrible, with such a cruel father!

A muffled voice from behind her broke her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Harry and Ron's heads floating in mid air by the bookcase. She jumped, before realising they were in the Invisibility Cloak. Both their faces looked rather surprised.

'Well, I wasn't expecting something like that.' said Harry.

'You were spying on me?' asked Hermione incredulously.

They looked uncomfortable. 'Well we were worried.' said Ron's head. 'With it being Malfoy and all.'

'We wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you again.' added Harry.

Hermione shook her head. 'I'm not sure whether to be mad at you or to think it's sweet.'

The two boys took off the cloak and sat down at the table, neither of them, Hermione noticed, taking the seat recently vacated by Draco. There was an awkward silence.

'Sorry for spying on you.' said Harry.

'It's alright.' Hermione smiled at them. 'I know you were only trying to help and stuff… but you could have told me, and…'

'Hermione, you'd never have allowed us to spy on you.' Ron pointed out.

She smiled weakly. 'I suppose I'd better finish this translation.'

'It's supposed to be a group thing isn't it? Shouldn't Malfoy help you?'

'No, it's ok. It's probably better to wait till he's not quite as angry. And there's only a bit left.'

The three friends sat around the dark-wooded table, talking quietly. A rather subdued air hung over the trio.

~*~

The days wore on, forming week after week after week. Time flew by, through pages of the Laekalia, through lessons and homework and weekends spent with friends, until the middle of March.

Hermione and Draco had not fought since she had found out about the Glacios curse. True, they bickered almost continuously, but it was more friendly argument than anything else. He called her Mudblood less and less, and they had somehow developed a first-name basis. She had learnt to tolerate him, and he seemed to be treating her with more respect and civility.

They were around the three-quarter point of the book by now. Hermione was, strangely, not looking forward to finishing it. Somehow over the past few weeks, in spite of the fact that he was an annoying, egotistical, sadistical, cold-hearted, cruel, evil git, she had sort of grown to like Draco. Not that she would ever admit it. Yes, they squabbled continuously, but it was all in fun, and yes, he was still sometimes mean about her being Muggleborn, but somehow she could tell he didn't mean it anymore. Whenever she tried to figure out their strange half-friendship, it made her head ache. But whenever she didn't think about it, it made perfect sense.

Hermione hadn't forgotten about the Glacios curse over the course of the weeks. Whenever she had time she had gone, in typical Hermione fashion, to the library to search for a cure. After all, Draco had said there might be one. To her frustration, it proved to be quite a rare curse, only listed in a few books. So one late Thursday night saw her tiptoeing to the library; hopeful that this time would prove more fruitful than the other times she had looked.

Half an hour of fruitless searching among the Defence Against The Dark Arts section yielded no answers. She had looked through '_A Glossary of Dark Curses', 'Dark Curses and How to Combat them'_, and _'Dark Curses: A Listing.'_ She had checked _'A Thousand and One Curses'_,_ 'Curses the Ministry Keep Secret'_ and what many others too innumerable to remember. She now only had a few minutes till the library closed, and was getting desperate. Maybe the answer would only be in the Restricted Section? But how to get a pass?

She was skimming the index of a thick book called _'Dark Curses: A Guide'_, muttering the names of curses as she got to them. 'Gestito… Gibbus…. Glacios…'

Her voice trailed off. There it was! 'Glacios, page 212.' She carefully turned the pages. The book was very old and thick.

'The Glacios curse.' she read in almost reverent tones. 'Invented in 1215 by the feared Dark witch, Lady Maesta…'

She was cut off by Madam Pince, rounding the corner of a bookcase. 'The library should have closed five minutes ago.' She pointed out.

'But this is really important…'

'I'm sorry, but the library is closing.'

'Well can I take this one out?'

The librarian glared at her. 'You're already two books over the limit. The book will still be here in the morning.'

She had spent so long looking, just to be stopped at the last moment! Now she would have to wait until the library opened tomorrow. Madam Pince reached over, picked up the book and shut it, then filed it neatly away amongst its fellows. Hermione gave the book, gold writing glimmering with promise on its spine, a last longing look, before turning to leave.

~*~

_A blur of crimson and gold, and a sudden feeling of dread. Then the images came together, forming themselves into the slightly fuzzed image of a long room. The walls of the room were lined with soft-looking beds, covered with red and gold fabric, like sunshine on blood. In the second bed from the door Hermione slept peacefully, a small smile on her face.  All seemed peaceful, all seemed calm, but there was something in the air that spoke of danger. _

_And then. The door at one end of the room opened, slowly, slowly, without so much as a creak, and through it came two black-cloaked figures, their faces and identities hidden by the dark material. They crept through the room like sinister mice, and stopped by Hermione. One of them drew out a wand, and whispered a spell. The sleeping form of Hermione rose a few inches off the bed, and then, silently as death, the two men crept out, the oblivious girl floating ghostlike in front of them._

_They pulled the door to gently, and softly descended the stairs into the main common room, full of comfortable red and gold sofas. The men approached the fire, and one pulled out of his pocket a small paper bag. Throwing a handful of powder into the flames, which turned viridian green to clash horribly with the room, the first man stepped into the flames with a muttered word. The second followed, still floating the unconscious girl in front of him._

_A flash of green, and the scene changed abruptly to a darkly lit stony room, cold and harsh. The journey had shaken Hermione into consciousness, and she sat on the floor, looking around her with frightened and wild eyes. She gabbled something inaudible, heard as if through water, and one of the men replied in a voice that sounded cold in spite of being impossible to hear. She scrambled to her feet, tried to run, but made it barely a step before a spell stopped her, freezing her limbs so she fell to the floor. But her eyes still moved, and the utter fear and horror in them was painful to witness._

_The fabric of the dream twisted again, and now Hermione was in a cell. A hooded Death Eater stood before her, holding a strange silver orb in one hand. He pointed a wand at her, shouted something. Hermione collapsed screaming, her terrified voice stabbing the heart like a knife, and the man laughed coldly, his hood falling off to reveal silver-blond hair…_

_The torture session faded, and the man was seen to drop the orb into a table drawer close to the cell, lock it with a small silver key, and walk upstairs._

_The scene shifted again. Now the distinctive face of Lucius Malfoy was visible, curving into a cruel parody of a smile. He spoke, and this time his speech was perfectly audible._

_'The girl has been captured successfully, my Lord. She is locked in the dungeons.'_

_And a second cold voice, it's owner unseen, replied. 'Good.' It paused a moment, and then continued in a quieter voice, as if speaking to itself. ' And now the pieces of the plan come together at last.' The voice laughed, a high cold laugh_

and in Hogwarts castle, two boys were startled awake.

~*~

            A/N: The plot thickens! What's going on? Is Hermione alright? What's that strange silver orb? Can the Glacios curse be cured? How? Which two boys awoke from the dream and why? (more chocolate to whoever answers that one!) 

            Please review! 


	6. Uneasy Alliances

Uneasy Alliances

**Disclaimer:** They belong to J.K.Rowling! Not me!

**A/N:** Wow – thank you to all my reviewers! Fiery-chan, JAMtillDawn, Faith, Amythest-Angel462, Juliet-Potter426, SophieBabe, Rebecca, Dragonsbane, iceheart-04, Adi, silver_rose, aries, Syaoran_Girl, Goddess-Isis-112, KAOS, aime, L. Meylan, wishing_star, shibbydragongirl, MoonDancerCat, Corundum Advance, Athletic_Gurl, Aniron, Shinimigami, Sanaria, Krissy1, Dawn, Xtreme_Nusiance, hb, and DemonBlade! You're all wonderful!

*gives chocolate to everyone who guessed the correct two characters, double to Dragonsbane because they got why too, and scoffs the rest herself * 

            Well enjoy  - and review!

            ~*~

Draco sat up in bed, running a hand through his blond hair and being vaguely irritated to find it had knotted as he slept. His brow furrowed as he thought over the dream. He didn't usually dream, or if he did, he didn't remember it. But that one hadn't felt… natural. It wasn't a quality that Draco could name. It was like… if normal dreams felt like sand, this had been rock. More real, more defined.

Once, when he was younger, he'd had a dream with a similar feeling. He'd dreamt that his father's Death Eater meeting had been attacked by the 'light' side. He'd woken up from that one too, just in time to hear his father bang through the front door, shouting for the house elf, and from what he'd overheard, the events of his dream were apparently true. At the time, he'd put it down to a freak flare-up of his grandmother's Seer genes, turned over and promptly fallen back to sleep.

Now, it had apparently happened again. And if it had, Hermione had been kidnapped. No problem of his. Go back to sleep, Draco.

Except there was some gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, cajoling him to 'Just go and check, go up to the Gryffindor house and see if Hermione's there.' (Draco prided himself at the fact that he knew not only the location of all the house common rooms, but also the passwords. It was amazing what a few Galleons could buy you.)

Trying to ignore the little voice, he pondered how the kidnappers had managed to get into the school. From what he had seen, they had come by Floo… Of course, it was so deceptively simple! The Floo networks in Hogwarts were not normally open, quite logically, for then it would be an easy matter for Voldemort himself to just Floo in and take over the whole place. Malfoy Manor had no Floo channels for the same reason. But of course, there was always someone you could bribe to open a connection… It was a cunning plan; devious in its simplicity, and the scheming, plotting part of his mind marvelled at it.

He lay down and turned over in bed, and prepared to go back to sleep. Hermione's kidnapping was no problem of his. He thought, with a grin, about the looks on Potter and Weasel's faces when they found out in the morning. They would be frantic!

And then he remembered the orb. The shining silver orb that had been held by the man who tortured Hermione, who Draco was fairly certain had been his father. The orb, which was now locked in a drawer in the dungeons of what he had instantly recognised as Malfoy Manor.

The orb was a powerful Dark object, bound to its owner by a single piece of hair. Known as the Malus Orbis, it gave its bearer protection against all but the darkest of curses, and increased its bearer's magical power. As a child, Draco had coveted it; it would mean that no one could harm him again. His father had always kept it locked away with the rarest and most evil of his Dark things, only bringing it out when its use was required.

Draco knew where it was now, and if he was only at Malfoy Manor, he could steal it, claim it for himself… it would mean safety. A tugging in the pit of his stomach told him to rescue Hermione, and while such a proposition was clearly madness… the lure of the Malus Orbis was too great.

And it was as if he had already decided, he would go. He paused a few minutes to contemplate his plan. Going alone was far too dangerous – if his father caught him, he would be dead or worse. However… his mouth curved into a half-smile. If Potter was there, Lucius would be too busy with him to bother too much about his son… all he had to do was go to Potter and Weasel, tell them of Hermione's kidnapping, and offer to accompany them to Malfoy Manor. If they were discovered, Potter would overshadow him and he could be let of relatively unharmed, with the right excuses. If they were not discovered, Hermione would be safe, the Malus Orbis in his possession, and Potter and Weasel would be left owing him a debt. It was the perfect plan!

He gathered some things together, threw a robe over his pyjamas and pulled on a cloak, and headed for Gryffindor tower. First things first: if Hermione really were missing, he would know the dream was true.

~*~

The Hogwarts corridors were abandoned at night, save for Filch and his cursed cat. It was quite a peculiar feeling to walk the hallways, by day so full of life and colour, but now a grey ghostly void, nothing but stone and moonlight.

Draco was taking a route avoiding the main corridors, taking the ones leading through disused parts of the school. Portraits whispered as he strode purposefully past, but none spoke to him, none tried to stop him. Soon they became nothing more than a distraction to Draco, merely adding to the eerie atmosphere.

He climbed a staircase, the cloak he had thrown over his pyjamas billowing slightly behind him. In one of the pockets he had hidden a bag of Floo powder, taken from his own personal supply of _'Things I Don't Think I'll Ever Need, But It Helps To Be Prepared Anyway.' _And now, as it had so often in the past, it had come through for him. If the Floo channels were still open, Hermione could be rescued now, when they weren't expecting it.

He wasn't overly worried about Hermione. After all, she was just another Gryffindor. His real intent was to retrieve the Malus Orbis. As far as the rescue was concerned, Draco was just an innocent bystander.

Not that Draco was innocent.

Far from it.

He reached the picture of a fat lady in a pink dress, which his bribed 'associate' had told him was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He'd never had need to use it before, but now was the time to test the knowledge.

The lady looked at him suspiciously. Draco arranged his face into a long-practiced butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth expression.

'Password?' inquired the painting with distrust.

'Ignis.' replied Draco instantly.

The woman in the painting gave him a distrustful look, and the painting swung open reluctantly to reveal the Gryffindor common room.

Draco stepped through the hole, and looked around with some interest. The room was identical to how he had seen it in the dream, but in the flesh it was more impressive. Large, cosy, and comfortable were the words that came to Draco's mind, and apart from the colour scheme the room was quite appealing.

But admiration of the common room décor was not what he was here for, and he quickly looked around for the way to the dormitories. Up the stairs? Probably. He had taken barely a step in their direction when there were sudden footsteps on the spiral staircase, and worried voices floated down.

'Where could she be? What should we do?'

'I don't know. But we have to tell Dumbledore.'

'Do you think she really was kidnapped? Maybe she just went to the library or something…'

But the second voice did not reply, for Ron and Harry had turned the final twist of the staircase and come face to face with Draco.

For a moment the two Gryffindors stood in a shocked silence. Ron was the first to splutter out any semblance of speech.

_'You!'_

'_What _are you doing here?' asked Harry weakly.

'What have you done with Hermione?' asked Ron, now almost shouting, turning rapidly red with rage.

'I haven't done anything with Hermione.' answered Draco in a low voice. 'Has she been kidnapped?' If she had, then he could get the Malus Orbis.

'Well you should know, as YOU were the one that DID IT!' shouted Ron.

'I didn't…'

'How do you know she was kidnapped then?' asked Harry.

The two boys were rapidly growing more and more enraged, their hands tightening around their wands so hard their knuckles were turning white. Draco attempted to stay calm, but it wasn't easy when you were faced with two furious teenage boys and trying to find out whether your Ancient Runes partner had been kidnapped. Surreptitiously, he drew his own wand, and held it carefully behind his back. He hoped things weren't about to get violent. Violence was so messy.

'I dreamt it.' said Draco, but didn't have time to say any more before Ron cut in again, snorting with disbelief.

'Oh yeah, I'm sure you saw it in your crystal ball Malfoy. Tell me where she is, and I swear if you've hurt a hair on her head I'll…'

            Draco cut in while Ron was still fishing for threats. 'My grandmother was a Seer. The genes crop up sometimes.' 

            Being semi-civil to his enemies was annoying, but he had to get them to trust him. But somewhere deep inside, in a place where his conscience and morals lay stifled, a tiny spark of fear and worry was burning. He disguised it, told himself it was excitement over getting the Malus Orbis. 

            Ron looked about to attack, but Harry surprised them both by saying, 'What did you see?'

            Draco related the incidents of the dream to them. At the end, Harry nodded.

            'That's what I saw in my dream.' His hand reached up to his forehead and traced his famous scar.

            '_Your_ dream?' asked Draco, puzzled. Then, remembering the rumours he'd heard, realised. 'Oh right, the scar… it gives you dreams.'

            Ron burst in. 'Don't listen to him. He was probably one of the kidnappers himself.'

            Harry shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly on Draco in an unnerving way that was both thoughtful and suspicious. 'Those figures were too tall to be Malfoy. And he wouldn't have to Floo in.'

            Ron looked furious, but couldn't think of an argument against it. He glared violently at Draco.

            'If only we knew where she was!' growled Harry, looking angry. 'We could get her back… somehow…' 

            'I know where she is.' Draco stated, smirking.

            Harry and Ron both spoke simultaneously, in a way that made Draco laugh inside. 'Where?'

            'Wouldn't you like to know?' Now this was more like fun. Taunting Gryffindors. Ah, the joy of it.

            'Tell us Malfoy.' said Harry, his eyes narrowing. Draco wondered how they could not possibly have realised where she was from the dream. 

            'I recognised the dungeon. She's at Malfoy Manor.'

            The two Gryffindor boys paused to digest this information. 'Right,' began Harry, 'so your father, who I bet is right in Voldemort's inner circle, has Hermione locked in your ancestral family home's dungeons.'

            'Basically, yes.'

            'Your house has dungeons?' asked Ron.

            'Yes, they won the 'Which Evil Sadist Death Eater's Dungeon?' award five years running. Four star torture chamber and everything.'

Harry and Ron gave Draco a very weird look. Gryffindors, thought Draco. No sense of humour.

'How did they get here? You can't Floo to Hogwarts.' wondered Harry dully. 

            'I think they must have bribed someone to open up the Floo channels.' answered Draco, trying to sound as if this wasn't something a kindergartner could have worked out. 'The connection's probably still open, if you want to be typical Gryffindors and rescue her.' He prompted, anxious to get to the Manor quickly. He wanted that orb. Getting Hermione back was just a bonus. He didn't want to be stuck doing all the translation on his own… and she was a lot better partner than most.

            He withdrew from his cloak the bag of Floo powder and tossed it to Harry, who opened the bag to examine its contents.

            'What's got into you Malfoy?' he asked incredulously.

            Draco shrugged. He did not want to reveal his ulterior motive. No, he would much rather keep it a secret. Have them think he was doing this out of his own good will. It would be easier to win their trust.

            'If Hermione gets killed, I'll have to do all that translation on my own.' he said, semi-jokingly.

            Harry clutched the bag in his hand, turning to the fire. 'Do you want to go first, or shall I?' he asked Ron.

            Draco felt a sudden thrill. Potter was actually going to do it. It seemed monumentally stupid to him, to go rushing off into a house filled with your enemies to rescue a friend. But there was a certain something to the idea, the thrill of action and adrenaline that flared like a torch.

            'You decide.' said Ron, and Draco mentally rolled his eyes. This was not a time for chivalry. He needed that orb…

            _And Hermione. You're going for Hermione too, remember?_

He frowned. He was going for the orb, first and foremost. Hermione was just a bonus…

            _Hermione? A bonus? No, you want her back as much as you want the orb. Don't you?_

Did he? Did he want her back? Well… yes. She was better company than the Slytherins. She was kind, she was talkative and full of laughter. Why shouldn't he want her back? Muggleborns weren't that bad, once you got to know them. And there was no reason for Purebloods to be superior…

            _So go for her as much as the orb. Do something for someone else._

'If you two are going to spend all night being chivalrous,' he said, 'I'll go first.'

The two Gryffindors stared. 'You're coming?'

'Do either of you know where the dungeons are in Malfoy Manor?

They shook their heads numbly. Draco gave them his trademark smirk and plucked the bag of Floo powder out of Harry's hands. He walked right up close to the fire. At this distance, he should be wincing from the heat, but he couldn't feel anything. The Glacios curse. 

He threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, staring deeply into their emerald depths. 

'Malfoy Manor!'

~*~

What did you think? Review!


	7. Beneath the Manor

Beneath the Manor

**Disclaimer:** All characters and places e.t.c. in this story belong to J.K.Rowling and some big companies. They aren't mine. Ok?

**A/N:** Thanks to all my reviewers! CatalinaRose (x2), Faith, aries, JAMTillDawn, Cosmic Angel, f0xyness39, Amythest-Angel462, Juliet-Potter462, Lauren, Dragonsbane, M-chan, moi, Xtreme Nuisance, Slytherin Ice Angel (x2), Goddess-Isis-112, firey fairy, hyper_shark,  L. Meylan, MoonDancerCat, KAOS, iceheart-04, shibbydragongirl, Weasley Pride, Amo il ragazzo, smoo, Adi,  Hermie13 and soul_of_fyre158!

Read and review!

~*~

He was swept away in a rush of green flame. Fireplaces flew past, portals to a thousand different places, a thousand different stories. And then he stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor. His home.

It looked no different to the way he had seen it all his life. He stood in one of the main hallways, the grey walls covered with the standard sorts of tapestries: sunny woods, magical creatures, violent battles, and so forth. A large door at one end of the hall led into the room his father kept especially for Death Eater meetings. Draco could hear indistinct voices from inside: clearly his father had invited his 'friends' for a celebratory drink.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace a few seconds after Draco, with Ron following soon after. 

'Which way to the dungeons?' whispered Harry, who looked nervous but simultaneously eager.

'This way.' Draco replied, and led them to a small door leading off the corridor. At first glance, it looked so insignificant that you thought it would lead to a broom closet, but when opened stairs leading downwards were revealed.

And so the three of them began their descent, making a curious trio. They crept slowly down the stony stairs, worn to a curve by many centuries of feet. The bright light of the corridor was replaced with semi-darkness, making it hard to see; Draco heard one of the Gryffindors mutter a muffled swear word as they almost slipped. He couldn't tell which. The darkness was only broken by a cold glow from below, and they were almost totally anonymous.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Unlike the stereotypical dungeon, with its masses of cells in long black rows, Malfoy Manor had just two. The Malfoys had preferred murder to imprisonment, where possible. A door to the side of the staircase led through the twisting underground areas of the manor; kitchens, hiding places for the darker of his father's things, and huge areas occupied by only dust and spiders.

The cells were basic: stone floors, a single barred window each, and a bed of sorts lying against the wall nearest the bars. The right hand cell was empty, but in the left hand cell a huddled figure lay.

'Hermione?' called Ron, running to the bars. Harry was close on his heels.

The shape twisted round. Draco wasn't surprised to see a long cut leaving blood on her cheek; he expected the Cruciatus curse had probably been used on her too. What he hadn't expected was for himself to feel a slight twinge of… sympathy? Couldn't be.

'Ron! Harry!' she exclaimed, looking feebler than Draco had ever seen her. She coughed weakly, and the two boys knelt down beside her, reaching hands through the bars to comfort their friend. This was Draco's chance.

A quick glance around the dungeons revealed the table he had seen. It was an imposing dark mahogany with gilt finish, used by his father to store various potions and items useful in torture. Draco had never known him leave such a valuable item in there. He was probably intending to return shortly. They had to hurry.

Which drawer had his father put it in? He thought back to the dream. The end one. He drew out his wand, putting it to the keyhole. 'Alohamora.' He whispered, to no effect. He frowned - it had been locked with more than a key. Glancing around, he surreptitiously bashed the drawer with his elbow. 

Thankfully, the lock mechanism was cheap – the table was intended to look good rather than to protect it's contents – and despite the locking spell, the lock broke. Slowly, carefully, he opened the drawer. Inside were a couple of brightly coloured potions, some empty bottles… and the Malus Orbis, shining brightly.

He took it out quickly, and shut the drawer. It was beautiful, as so many evil things are. It was decorated with a twisting pattern, which seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at it. And it was his. All he had to do was bind it to its new master with a single hair…

'Can you open the door?' asked Harry, looking over his shoulder. Draco slipped the orb into his robe pocket, where it lay heavily, and turned towards his new 'allies'. Hermione looked past her friends, trying to focus on him. 'Draco?' she half-whispered, puzzled.

He nodded once, and felt a strange urge to smile, but didn't. Instead he walked to the door and pointed his wand to the lock.

'Stiria.' he said, and the lock sprung open.

Ron and Harry hurriedly ran into the cell, where they fussed over Hermione. Draco could hear her weakly answering their questions.

'I don't think I can walk… yes… I thought I was going to die… thank goodness you came…'

Draco stood at the doorway to the cell, looking forward to Flooing back to Hogwarts. He had the Malus Orbis; he was safe enough. And the sooner he was out of Gryffindor company the better.

'Lets get out of here.' said Harry. Ron stood next to him, struggling to carry  a semi-conscious Hermione. Draco, who had previous experience of his father's 'torture sessions', said nothing.

They had barely left the cell when sudden voices on the stairs stopped them in their tracks. Draco swore inwardly.

'Run!' he hissed, and made for the side door, Harry and Ron in close pursuit.

The corridor behind the door hadn't been disturbed for many years. It was dark, almost pitch black but for high-up windows letting in silver slivers of moonlight. The dust-covered stones muffled their footsteps.

Reaching an intersection, the boys ducked behind a wall and hid, trying to stay silent and praying the Death Eaters hadn't heard them. Maybe they would think the rescue mission had already taken place, and would not come looking for their escaped hostage… maybe.

Draco opened his eyes and saw his breath, white mist in front of his eyes. Out of one corner of his eye, he saw Ron struggling to carry Hermione's weight. She seemed to be slipping further out of consciousness, if she hadn't already done so. Distant and inaudible, he heard shouts as the Death Eaters discovered their missing prey.

And then, with a creak that seemed to be the only noise in the world, the door was opened. 

It didn't sound like many: about half of the group. But five or so Death Eaters were more then a match for three unarmed boys. Draco listened to their footsteps, slowly prowling the corridor, and swore mentally.

'Any bright ideas Malfoy?' asked Harry in a whisper.

'One.' He replied. 'Follow the Draco-shaped blur.'

He gave them a second for this to sink in, and then ran as fast as he could down the corridor.

'There they are! After them! Don't let them get away!'

Cursing blindly, Draco ran. He ran as fast as he could, feet pounding on the stone, curses whizzing past him. He ran away from the Death Eaters, the irony of the situation not escaping him, for now he ran from those he once aspired to become. They took all the corners they could, hoping to lose them in the twisting maze. They ran through rooms too, once a kitchen, and once an empty store room, but while the Death Eaters fell behind the three boys never once lost them.

Draco noticed little of his surroundings. He was simply running where his legs took him, and although he didn't realise it then, running away from what he once was. Looking blindly around for any hope of salvation, he unexpectedly found one. A door, not unlike the one that led them here, stood half-open. 

            'In here!' he said, loud enough for Ron and Harry to hear him, but not loud enough for it to travel down the corridor. He ran to the door and slipped inside, followed by Harry, and Ron carrying the by now unconscious Hermione. Harry closed the door behind them, and leant on it heavily, sinking to the floor.

            It was a tiny room, and the only light came from another of the high up windows. It appeared to be a junk room of sorts, filled with huge cardboard boxes, onto which Ron placed Hermione, before sitting heavily on the floor.

            There was silence, for a moment, as the boys listened for their enemies. The Death Eaters' footsteps slowly rose to a crescendo. Then they were at the door, past it, and incredibly, fading away.

            It wasn't until a few minutes after the footsteps had faded completely, a few minutes of tense silence, that someone spoke.

            'Well that was close.' said Harry.'

            Draco fixed him with a sarcastic look. 'Congratulations,' he drawled, 'You've just won the million Galleon prize in stating the obvious.'

            Harry ignored this comment, instead speaking to Ron. 'Is Hermione alright?'

            'Yeah,' replied the redhead, 'apart from being attacked by minions of the Dark Lord of course.'

            Draco could physically feel his glare. Considering he had risked his life for them and Hermione, he thought it was a bit much.

            'I might remind you, Weasley, that if it wasn't for me risking my life to come along on this rescue mission, you would probably be captured or dead.'

            There was an uncomfortable silence. Draco liked uncomfortable silences. Mainly because they tended to be a result of something he'd said.

            'Right. How do we get out of here?' asked Harry, taking charge of the situation. 'Going back through the Manor is definitely out.'

            'That leaves the window.' Draco pointed out.

            'What, and walk back to Hogwarts?' spluttered Ron. 'We'd probably die of hunger before we got there.'

            Harry thought. 'What's in these boxes, Malfoy?' 

            'I don't know. Junk, probably.' he replied. 'Take a look.'

            Harry opened the nearest box, sending a shower of dust into the air that made him cough. 'This one's full of old clothes.' He picked out a horrendous dress, sickly green with enough faded white lace to keep a small army of moths busy for years. 

'Obviously the Malfoys have no taste in clothes.' 

'We have impeccable taste in clothes, Weasley. That was probably very much in fashion a few centuries ago.'

Ron opened another box. 'Photo albums.' he said. 'Eurgh, it's got Malfoy's baby photos!'

Draco, who was looking over his shoulder, corrected him. 'Actually, that's my great-grandfather. Or maybe my great-great-grandfather.'

'Drat.' said Harry, opening a box of old diaries. 'I would have loved to blow one up to giant size and hang it over the Slytherin table…'

'We could still do that, and tell everyone it was Malfoy.' Ron said hopefully

'In your dreams, Weasley.' Draco reached over and snapped the book closed, throwing it back in the box.

They looked through the boxes in silence for a minute, Hermione's slow breathing the only indication she was still alive. 

Ron sat back from the box of books he'd just opened. 'This is useless. It's all just a bunch of Malfoy family junk.'

'Oh no it isn't.' said Harry, grinning. He stood up from the box he was rummaging in, and showed them what he'd found.

Broomsticks.

'Oh no, Harry. There is no way we can carry Hermione back to Hogwarts on a broomstick.'

'I'll carry her. It's better than waiting round here to get murdered.'

Draco took one of the broomsticks in his hand. 'Cloudsweeper 1000. Fairly new. It's no Firebolt, but it's fast enough to get back to Hogwarts in about half an hour.'

'Harry, you'll drop her. No insult to Hermione, but she isn't light.'

Draco could not hold back a snicker.

'I'll be careful. And if she falls, we can levitate her.'

Ron looked extremely worried. 'Harry, I am seriously worried about your sanity.' 

Harry responded with a rather dubious grin.

~*~

*points to 'Submit Review' option* Constructive criticism is appreciated!


	8. Airborne Miracles

Airborne Miracles

**Disclaimer:** If I owned them, would I be writing this? No. They're owned by J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** WOW! Over 200 reviews! *gives everyone chocolate* People who reviewed chapter 7 were: animegirl-mika, googoo4you, Trancos, Aniron, zumamoonlight, L. Meylan, KAOS, LydiaGotven, Fiery-chan, Nellie-chan (x2), f0xyness39, Anakah (x2), SophieBabe,  harrypotter-chik, silver_rose, JAMTillDawn, shibbydragongirl, FairLady, Amythest-Angel462, Juliet-Potter426, Weasley Pride,  libella, Random Anonymous Person, kaori, Rebecca, hyper_shark, aime, firey fairy, Slytherin Angel, Adi, Safiya, SuSaMiNa, kalariah, Cosmic Angel, Rosa, sam, Stephanie Gamble, Dragonsbane and ce!

~*~

And so, about five minutes later, the trio were ready to go. Harry was clutching Hermione tightly, one arm around her waist, the other combining the task of holding the broomstick with that of pillowing her head on his elbow. 

They took off out of the window, and into the night. Although Draco couldn't feel the chill of the air cutting past him, the clear taste and smell of it told him it was another typically cold March night. The full moon shone down brightly, and the wind blowing in their faces made their eyes sting. The sky was purple-black, star dotted and crisp. It was a perfect night. Now they were out of the Manor, it all seemed safe. Draco had succeeded in taking the Malus Orbis, they had Hermione alive, and they were heading back to safety.

Ron and Harry flew together, for Hermione's sake as much as to talk. Draco flew a little apart but could still overhear some of their conversation. 

'They kidnapped her to get me, you know. It's my fault she's hurt.' 

'Of course it's not! You can't help it if they suddenly get some evil plan and kidnap her. And you don't even know why they did it.'

'I'm sure they'd take the time and effort to get into Hogwarts just to capture one Muggleborn girl.'

'But if they took the time and effort to get into Hogwarts, and it was you they were after, wouldn't it be much simpler to just go and kidnap you?'

Harry looked relieved at this thought, until Draco spoke.

'There are wards all over your dormitory. No-one with a Dark Mark would be able to enter.'

Harry was surprised. 'Wards on my dormitory?'

'How do you know?'

'My father's a Death Eater. I pick things up.' He said, enjoying the looks on their faces. As if they didn't know anyway…

Harry shivered, and changed the subject. 'It's cold.'

'Freezing.' remarked Ron.

Draco said nothing. He was always freezing, after all, and he couldn't tell how cold it was.

They flew on in silence, each one lost in thought. Draco wondered whether he would wake up soon and find it was all a dream. He didn't know whether he wished it or not. On the good side, he had the Malus Orbis, and a living Runes partner. On the other hand, his father was likely to murder him as soon as possible. Tonight had been too different, out of the ordinary. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, wrong and somehow right, madness and sanity all rolled into one. It had been life changing.

And it was about to become even more so.

Harry and Ron were now talking animatedly, or maybe even arguing. Draco wasn't listening. He kept glancing over his shoulder, afraid of being followed. What if one of the Death Eaters had looked out of a window? What if they were chasing them now? What if they had faster brooms, and they knew Darker curses, and they could catch them and kill them one by one…

He was so lost in this line of thought that he didn't see exactly how Hermione fell.

'HERMIONE!'

Draco's head whipped around at the cry, and his eyes fixed on the terrible sight. Hermione was falling, tumbling head over heels. His heart skipped a beat.

Without thinking, he threw himself into a dive. Faster, faster, he willed the broom. The trees were rushing up to meet him, like deadly black-green spikes. He was dimly aware of Harry a short way behind him, and a vague memory of all the times they'd played Quidditch against each other sparked in the back of his brain. But his unwavering concentration was focused solely on the girl in front of him, hair buffeted by the wind, falling obliviously towards death.

He reached out a hand, stretching as hard as he could, and grabbed her wrist. She jerked to a stop, and her full weight hung from Draco's arm. 

A second passed. And then…

A wave of _something_ spread up his arm, starting from where he clutched her wrist in a death-grip, swelling and growing until it covered him completely. It took him a second to recognise it. Warmth. He was warm again.

Somehow, the Glacios curse had broken.

Harry rather spoilt the moment by stopping beside Draco, white-faced. 'Is she alright?' he asked, sounding vaguely panicky.

'She's fine, Potter, apart from being dropped by an incompetent fool.' Draco drawled automatically. He carefully pulled Hermione up. Some part of him – the part still full of witty repartee and insults, as opposed to the dumb amazement which was so irritatingly filling him - gloated in the expression on Potter's face. He looked so _guilty_.  

He instinctively pulled Hermione onto his lap, glaring at Harry, and Ron who had flown down in the meantime. 'You couldn't be trusted taking care of a Flobberworm.' he told them, then shifted Hermione to a more comfortable position. 'I'll carry her.' He flew off before they could argue.

They didn't argue, but Draco could sense a wave of resentment from them. He ignored it, and went back to his own thoughts. How had the curse been lifted? What had happened? There were so many possible answers, criteria that had been met. But it was over. And it felt amazing.

He had forgotten just how crisp the chill of the night air could be, how warm another person felt. He glanced down at Hermione, unconscious in his arms. It was hard to hold her, he had to admit, but right at that moment he wouldn't have given her up for a thousand Galleons. A part of him knew, in the same way that you know fire will burn or ice will freeze, that the cure had something to do with Hermione. This night had changed him completely. Before, he had been… cold. The Glacios curse had been only part of it. There had been another kind of coldness, too, beneath the skin. He had not cared for anyone other than himself, he had been mean, he had been cruel. But tonight, the Glacios curse had been broken. And as he looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms, he felt a rush of something warm inside, too.

And for that, he was grateful.

Ron's voice cut into his thoughts. 'I hate to tell you this, but look behind.'

Draco turned to see what he had feared. Ten or so Death Eaters were following them.

A curse whizzed past them, disappearing into the dark night. Draco pulled out his wand. Time to fight.

But first, he pointed the wand at himself. 'Funis.' Ropes spun out of the end of the wand, winding around himself and Hermione, a few loops securing them to the broomstick. He looped some strands around the pocket containing the Malus Orbis, wishing he had the time to bind it to himself. He had experience of Dark curses, and did not want to take any chances.

They flew in a tense silence. The Death Eaters were too far behind to attack, but they were closing the gap with alarming speed. As their pursuers got closer, they began throwing spells. Harry and Ron couldn't do much more than blocking the curses, or dodging them completely. Their retaliation was mainly in the form of Impedimenta curses and so forth, which couldn't slow the Death Eaters down for long. Draco, on the other hand, was a different matter.

'Malfoy, are you using Dark curses?'

Draco grinned his most evil grin at the rather scandalised Harry. 'Not _very _Dark. Shadowy, at most.' He paused for this to sink in. 'Haven't you ever heard of fighting fire with fire?'

Harry looked doubtful, but turned back to dodging the curses. Suddenly, like the Holy Grail, the dim shape of Hogwarts loomed on the distant horizon. It would take about five minutes by Draco's estimation to get there, and…

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

An all too familiar voice shouted the killing curse, and it took Draco barely a glance over his shoulder to tell it was heading straight for him.

Jerking the broom reflexively, pulling it as hard as he could, he swerved just enough to avoid the bolt of death. He sensed it whiz past him, harmlessly. He dimly heard a voice – either Harry or Ron, he couldn't tell – swear in surprise. His heart pounded violently. That voice… 

He didn't have time to pause, before the voice was back, this time with a different tactic.

'Crucio!'

Draco barely dodged the familiar curse. He threw his arm tighter around the unconscious girl he was carrying, hoping with all the hope he had that she would not slip through the ropes.

He was not quick enough to dodge when the Death Eater cast the second Cruciatus. Pain flooded him, and he gave an involuntary cry of pain before biting his lip to stop himself. He would not scream… mustn't scream… mustn't show weakness…

With a strange shift of perspective, he felt the world turn upside down. Except, of course, it was himself that was upside down, hanging by the ropes from his broomstick. He dropped his wand, felt it leave his fingers to fall to the ground so far below. He dimly realised, through the burning pain that was his world, that his arms had wrapped themselves around Hermione, holding her protectively. He didn't want her hurt…

And then the pain vanished.

'Are you alright?' asked a voice. He opened his eyes to see it was Harry. 

'I'm fine.' he replied, putting his hands back onto the broomstick and pulling himself upright. He touched his lip where he had bitten it, and felt warm blood.

'We're almost there, keep going.' said Ron, glancing at the ever-gaining Death Eaters.

Soon, the towers of Hogwarts loomed into view. And, the instant it became clear that the boys would reach Hogwarts before the Death Eaters could catch them, Voldemort's minions turned away, flying back to the manor.

Harry and Ron whooped and cheered. Draco just smiled. They were safe. And whatever madness happened tomorrow, however things changed, for now he was safe.

They flew in the Infirmary window, terrifying the life out of Madam Pomfrey. Then all the usual things following such an adventure took place. Hermione was tucked up in bed, and Dumbledore came in to listen to their story. Draco sat back in his chair, and listened while Harry and Ron related what had happened to Dumbledore. The headmaster seemed quite amused at their adventure, and kept giving Draco interested and knowing glances. Personally, Draco thought anyone that gave interested and knowing glances should either come out and say what he knew that was so interesting, or go and gouge his eyes out. He knew which one he preferred.

They seemed to be nearing the end of the story.

'And one of the Death Eaters tried to kill Malfoy, but he swerved in time.'

'It was really close. And then the Death Eater tried the Cruciatus on him.'

On hearing this, Madam Pomfrey swooped down. 'Headmaster, I must insist! The Cruciatus is extremely painful, I should have been told immediately! He needs rest, he needs sleep …'

Dumbledore cut her off mid-flow. 'Of course, Poppy. You may take him now.'

Within five minutes Draco was in a soft bed, his cut lip cleaned and healed, and a large slab of chocolate, which he had been ordered to eat. His cloak was draped over the back of a chair; the Malus Orbis surreptitiously removed from its pocket, and hidden under his pillow. He grudgingly nibbled the chocolate. He did not particularly like the milk variety, preferring bittersweet dark chocolate. 

But the chocolate wasn't bad, so he ate it, listening to the chatter as the two Gryffindors finished their story. They left soon, and Madam Pomfrey turned out the light, muttering about reckless boys and Death Eaters.

Draco lay in the darkness. He glanced over to the bed next to him where Hermione lay, recovering. She looked so frail, yet peaceful. He hoped she was alright.

He fell into a peaceful sleep. But, for the first time in so long, his dreams were filled with warmth.

~*~

Did you like it? What will happen next? Well you'll have to wait for Chapter 9 to find out. Whereas you can answer the first question very quickly by clicking the review button…


	9. Revelations

Revelations

**Disclaimer:** All the characters/places in this story belong to J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** Wow! I got so many reviews! Thank you to all of you who pushed the total to 265: DemonBlade, MoonDancerCat, CatalinaRose, CrystalineLily, CrimsonFirebolt (x7), f0xyness39, shibbydragongirl, googoo4you, Rebecca, LInda, Corundum Advance, j smith, soul of fyre158, Weasley Pride, SuSaMiNa, Texas Rio Star, trinity, kylee, aries, C, Natasha, Majestyic, The-Almighty-NailBunny (x8), kaori, Cosmic Angel, hyper_shark, firey fairy, Jenie, Ann, Pallida Mors, L. Meylan, Slytherin Angel, SophieBabe, JAMTillDawn, Geneveive, Goddess-Isis-112, Vanillastar, Nellie-chan, XtremeNusiance, Arial, kalariah, merrday, Amo il ragazzo,  HpFre4k, Unicorn777!

Ok, time to address the two major criticisms I've received:

1. People said it wasn't very likely for them to find wands and broomsticks. I couldn't do anything about the broomsticks, but I've changed it so that they took their wands with them.

2. People said the killing curse couldn't be dodged. I don't this is proved either way by canon. In GOF it describes the curse as 'a jet of green light' shortly before the Priori Incantatem effect takes place, so I think it could probably be dodged.

If anyone has any more problems with the story, I'll try to change them if I can… Read and Review! 

~*~

It was warm. It was warm, and it was cosy. It was warm, it was cosy and it was soft.

Draco Malfoy wasn't intending getting out of bed any time soon. 

But then a familiar voice intruded into his thoughts and woke him fully.

'Draco?'

He opened one eye, to see Hermione in the next bed. 'Hmm.' He sleepily closed his eyes again. 

'What happened?' asked Hermione, in the time-honoured fashion of the hospitalised.  'The last thing I remember is Ron and Harry coming to rescue me and…. you were there too… what happened?'

Draco pulled the blankets closer round him. If there was one thing Draco wasn't good at – heaven forbid - it was mornings. 'It's a long story.' he mumbled.

'We have time.'

Draco sighed, and reluctantly opened his eyes. 'Both me and Potter dreamed about you being kidnapped, we went off to rescue you by Floo, rescued you and got chased by Death Eaters, escaped on broomsticks, got chased by Death Eaters again, then we got back here.'

'Apparently it isn't that long a story.' remarked Hermione.

'I skipped some of the finer details.' 

'Wait…' said Hermione cautiously. 'You escaped on broomsticks?'

Draco made an affirmative noise, and tried to settle into a doze.

'You escaped on broomsticks with me unconscious.' She now sounded slightly worried. 'Who carried me, and how did they make sure I didn't fall?'

'Well Potter carried you at first, but then he dropped you.' 

'He WHAT!' Hermione almost shouted, sitting right up in bed.

'But I caught you.' Draco added quickly.

Hermione lay back down, rather white faced. 'Harry dropped me.' 

'Er… yes.' replied Draco.

'And you caught me?'

'Yes.'

There was a silence. Hermione looked rather scared, and Draco thought she was probably thinking of the 'terrible risks' the boys had taken by carrying her away on broomsticks. It was probably safer, though, to take that risk rather than remain stranded in a house filled with Death Eaters. And the Glacios curse had been cured because of it.

'You remember I told you about the Glacios curse?' he began, prompted by a feeling that she would somehow want to know.

Hermione started to speak very quickly and excitedly. 'Oh! I found a book last night in the library with an entry for it, but the library closed before I could read it, but we can go back and get it and I'm sure it will have something about a cure in…' 

'It's already cured.' interrupted Draco. He pushed himself upright, glancing over at Hermione. She looked rather pale, and too small in the crisp white bed she occupied. But her eyes were alive, twin points of dancing brown flame.

'What?' She glanced quickly over at him, her eyes betraying her surprise.

'When I caught you last night. It just…' Draco trailed off.

'Oh.'

'But I still don't know _why_ it cured me.'

Hermione smiled. 'Well we can go and get the book and look it up and see!'

Her eyes shone for a moment. Draco wondered idly what she was thinking. Probably revelling in the idea of solving the mystery, he thought. Hermione was like that, full of energy to solve problems and learn things.

He was broken from this line of thought by the entrance of Madam Pomfrey.

'Ah, you're awake. I thought I heard voices.' She walked over to Hermione, beaming to see her patients recovering. 'How are you feeling this morning, dear?' she asked.

'Fine, thanks.' 

'Your friends will be glad, they've been in here twice already looking for you.' She bustled around gathering potion bottles from various places, talking all the while about dangers and risks and Death Eaters. 

There was a knock on the door, and Madam Pomfrey opened it to reveal Ron and Harry, standing on the threshold looking hopeful.

'Is Hermione…' began Ron, but Madam Pomfrey cut in.

'Yes, she's awake.' The boys' faces lit up.

'Can we see her?' 

Madam Pomfrey frowned. 'She has had a terrible night… but she hasn't suffered more than a few cuts and bruises, so…' The two Gryffindors fairly raced in.

'But only for ten minutes, and don't excite her.' 

            Draco lay in bed, and listened to Harry and Ron go through the nights adventures in great detail. They didn't ignore Draco, but they didn't speak to him either. They occasionally glanced his way, especially when they were detailing events he had been the centre of.

            In a while, Madam Pomfrey came to tell them their time was up, and the two boys left unwillingly, promising to be back later. The two patients lay in a slightly uncomfortable silence, shortly broken by Hermione.

'You know when someone tried to kill you? And hit you with Cruciatus?'

'Yes?' replied Draco guardedly.

She surprised him with her next question. 'What do you know about it that Ron and Harry don't?'

'Nothing.' he replied, making his voice a perfect mask of puzzlement.  'Whatever gives you that idea?'

'I was watching you while they were talking. When there's something you don't want people to know your face goes blank, like a mask.' 

Draco paused. He didn't really want to tell her what he knew, but there was something about her that made him want to answer her. It was not a demanding something, or a something that inspired fear. It was more a something of trust. You could trust Hermione. It wasn't a concept he grasped easily, being a Slytherin, and brought up to trust no one.

'I know who it was that did it.' he found himself saying in a strangely neutral tone. 'I recognised the voice. It was my father.'

Hermione gasped. 'Your father? Your father tried to kill you?'

Madam Pomfrey saved Draco from answering by coming out of her office at that point, beaming as usual. She went over to Draco.

'Now, did you eat all that chocolate?' she asked.

'Yes.' Draco replied.

'Well, if you feel better, you can go. It's about halfway through breakfast, so you can still get something to eat if you want it.'

Draco nodded and pushed aside the sheets, Madam Pomfrey smiled even wider at him, and went back to her office to do whatever elusive thing nurses did in offices. Draco carefully pulled out the Malus Orbis, hiding it from Hermione's line of sight, and concealed it in a pocket.

Hermione spoke, very quietly. 'That book I found. It's called 'Dark Curses: A Guide' and it's under the Defence Against the Dark Arts section.'

Draco nodded his reply, and left the Infirmary to get some breakfast.

~*~

Morning break seemed like the safest time, bar midnight. Few of the Slytherins went back to their house common rooms during lunchtime, next to none came during break. And so Draco stood alone by the bright-burning fire, staring into its depths. The fire fascinated him now, now that he could feel the heat of the flames and not just see their dance. He almost wanted to plunge his hand into the flame, to see what burning felt like.

Instead, he reached into his pocket, and drew out the shining silver ball. He had risked a lot to get this – and Hermione – but it had paid off. He admired its pattern, twisting, turning a right angle here, making a U-turn there, with neither beginning nor end, and moving in the corner of your eye – so subtly you could hardly tell.

He held the ball firmly in his hands, and twisted sharply. It fell apart, forming two hollow halves. Inside one of the halves lay a single hair, so like Draco's, yet subtly different. He reached out, holding the half orb right over the flame, and tipped his father's hair into the fire. The unpleasant smell of burnt hair invaded Draco's nose, but he did not care. He carefully pulled one of his own hairs out, not even blinking an eye, and placed it in the orb. He brought the two halves together; they joined seamlessly and the orb glowed briefly with a dull light.

The Malus Orbis was bound to him.

~*~

The whole school had been whispering about the dramatic kidnapping – and rescue – that had taken place last night. Much to Draco's relief, the rest of his house had been told he had been ill in the night, and no one suspected the truth. He did not particularly want it to be known he had been involved in the rescue. A lot of his house members would not take this at all well. And, while he was not friends particularly with any of them, he was smart enough not to want to get on their bad side.

After lunch, he went to the library, where he found the book with relative ease. He sat down at the table with it, turning to the index to look up the curse, when a thought struck him. He closed the book, and after a quick pause to get it checked out, headed for the infirmary.

The corridors were still full of chatter. There were wild theories about how the Death Eaters had managed to kidnap her – they had learned to break the wards, someone in Gryffindor Tower was a Death Eater, Hermione herself was a Death Eater and had run to join her fellows, but hadn't counted on Harry and Ron 'rescuing' her. Draco laughed inwardly. How could anyone believe this rubbish? Most Gryffindors were too 'good', too 'brave' to ever join Voldemort. And Hermione a Death Eater? Never! Hermione was … the wrong sort of person. Hermione being a Death Eater would be like a square peg going in a round hole that happened to exist in another dimension.

Draco reached the Infirmary, and was allowed in to see her. She looked rather bored, lying in her bed and waiting until she could be let out. When she saw Draco, her face lit up and her smile glowed. Draco was surprised to find himself smiling back, and a surge of warmth flood through him.

'Hi.' she said, smiling.

He returned the greeting and took a seat in one of the chairs by her bed. There were a few boxes of sweets on the table by her bedside, and a bunch of wilting flowers, obviously picked from the grounds. He looked at the flowers with a raised eyebrow.

She followed his gaze. 'Lavender and Parvati didn't have any sweets because they're on a diet, so they picked me the flowers.'

Draco nodded vaguely. 'I got the book.' he said.

'What did it say?' she queried eagerly.

'I haven't looked yet.' He pulled the book out of his schoolbag. 

'Well open it!' She sounded like an impatient child on Christmas morning. He couldn't help but smile. He never used to smile, but there was something about Hermione that made him want to.

He flicked through the index and soon found the correct page. 'The Glacios Curse' he read. 'Invented 1215…it makes the sufferer feel as if they are freezing… Apparently, it only affects the skin, and it's a very powerful illusion, so that explains why I'm not dead from pneumonia or something…'

He flicked the page over, and let his eyes skim the top paragraph. And then he read it again, slower and disbelievingly.

The only cure for the Glacios curse is for the sufferer to touch the skin of someone they truly love…


	10. The Language of Emotion

The Language of Emotion

**Disclaimer:** All places, characters and recognised terms belong to J.K.Rowling. The Glacios curse and plot belong to me. :)  

**A/N:** Wow – 329 reviews! Thank you to: Marie, Dark Rogue, Krissy1, Amythest-Angel462, shibbydragongirl, In Fair Verona, Edainme, KAOS, Alyssa, Madam Rose, JoeBob1379, Julia, hb, zumamoonlight, Rebecca, Elica Park, Akuma Kanada no Tenchi, angstluvnazn, damsalndistress-asif, VanillaStar, MoonDancerCat, googoo4you, Weasley Pride, Deanna, HPFre4K, Slytherin Angel, aries, Sayoran Girl, C, karla, Goddess-Isis-122, MoonTrail, CatalinaRose, Tasha, Arial, sailorruss, Chibi Videl San, Rebecca Anne, kaori, karla (x2) MoonlightDreamWeaver, firey fairy, f0xyness39, hyper_shark, JAMTillDawn, Crimson Firebolt, Pallida Mors, DemonBlade, aime, SophieBabe, Kimberlee, Deam Granger, wishing star, M-han, The-Almighty-NailBunny,  kalariah, L. Meylan, hgranger-62191, AideeEight, Juliet-Potter246, Xtreme Nusiance, Nellie-chan!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and everyone who read and didn't review (although I would appreciate your feedback!) I hope you enjoy the chapter!

~*~

The only cure for the Glacios curse is for the sufferer to touch the skin of someone they truly love.

To say that Draco was shocked would have been an understatement. He seemed to be caught in a never-ending moment, filled with a mixture of shock, surprise, and mixed into the numbing pool of emotions, an understanding. He couldn't deny it. It all made such _sense_.

'Draco? What does it say?' Her voice shattered the bubble of frozen time that had surrounded him. He glanced upwards, was startled to find himself looking into chocolate-brown eyes, filled with an innocent mixture of curiosity and childish excitement. 

'It… it doesn't say anything.' Draco replied. 'Just goes onto the next curse.'

Hermione's face fell, like a light inside had gone out. But she still glowed, with a vibrancy that amazed Draco. It was as if all her secrets were written on her face, in the way she moved, in the way she laughed. She was an open book.

'Oh. Oh well.' Hermione looked disappointed. 'Just… you looked like you'd seen something.'

'I'm sure we'll find it in another book somewhere.' Draco tried to console her.

'I've looked in the library for hours.' Hermione's whole face fell. It was amazing just to watch her expressions change. The way her eyes shone when she was happy. The way her hair fell around her like a chocolate aura. Draco was seeing her in a new light. He blinked hard.

'For hours? You looked that long to find the cure?'

'Whenever I had the time. I guess I wanted to… to help.' Their eyes met, Hermione smiled and Draco was surprised to find himself smiling back.

'Thank you.' he said, and meant it.

It is one of the great Laws of human nature that such moments are always intruded upon. This time, it was by Madam Pomfrey, reminding Draco that his time was up, but Hermione would be out soon. Tucking the book under one arm, he left to return it to the library. And then do some serious thinking.

~*~

Quarter of an hour later, he lay on his bed in the Slytherin dormitories, the Malus Orbis in one hand. He examined its shifting patterns, seeming to mirror and mock his own thoughts. He couldn't deny that what the book said was true – he did love her. Love was a state he had never been in before. He had been, up to now, very self-reliant. He had never had friends, or to an extent parents. And as to girls? He had been brought up to consider every girl in three terms: blood, wealth, and allegiance to the Dark Lord. So love was a stranger to him. 

The big question was what to do? Should he tell her, or stay quiet? What did she think of him? There was an irritating lack of knowledge that made forming a plan very hard. It did not help that love was something he had no experience with. It confused him, mixing up his thoughts.

His rational side told him that there was no way she could ever be more than tolerant towards him. But the inner voice, which he suspected belonged to love and its sidekicks, nagged at him to tell her. It was hard trying to cope with two personas, his 'head' and his 'heart'. He had always simply operated on a logical Slytherin cunning, deciding which choice would give him greater benefits at a lesser risk. His heart had been frozen somewhere within, he had never before had to consider compassion or love. The two parts of Draco did not understand each other, and he found himself trying to compromise with himself. 

His head found it idiotic that he could even consider telling her – the risk was too great, and rejection wasn't the half of it. There was also the danger that Hermione might be in if his feelings for her were discovered, a point his heart agreed with. But, said the heart, what would happen if he didn't tell her? The heart wanted her to know, and it didn't present Draco with any logical reason. Its reason could not be put into words, for the heart speaks only the language of emotion.

~*~

Hermione, meanwhile, was still confined to the hospital wing, much against her will. Despite the many times she had told Madam Pomfrey that she felt just fine now, she still wanted to keep her in for observation. 

'You've had a terrible ordeal,' she would tell Hermione, 'and I simply cannot let you out of my sight. Why, who knows what curses they've used!' 

Hermione, from her extensive studying, had known what most of the curses were, and had been better able to cope with them because of it. It was at least comforting to know that the effects of that curse wore off gradually over the course of a minute, or that this spell was completely illusionary and nothing to be frightened of. There had been a few she hadn't recognised, and these had been the worst ones – not knowing what would happen was a torture in itself to Hermione.

She had at least had some time to speculate upon the extraordinary events of last night. Harry had told her of his worry that she had been kidnapped and hurt as bait for him, and she had had to concede that it was probable; although she had told him it wasn't his fault. It was one of the things she liked about Harry; he was open with his friends now more than ever after the events of fourth year. Harry and Ron were like brothers to her, sometimes annoying, always amusing, and she knew they thought of her the same way. 

It was not surprising that they had come to rescue her, and although she told them that they had been idiots to come after her she had to admit she would probably have done the same thing herself. No, what surprised her was the third member of the rescuing party.

If she had been asked a year ago who was most likely to rescue her from mortal danger at the hands of the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy wouldn't even have made the top thousand. And yet, sometimes the strangest things do happen. She had asked herself why so often her brain hurt, and she still couldn't think of an answer. Apart from the fact that he had changed.

What had irritated her most about Draco wasn't really the way he made fun of her and her friends. It had been more the way he had accepted his prejudices without question, had never even thought that maybe Purebloods _weren't _superior. It was, sadly, a state of mind not limited to the wizarding world. A million and one events in history had all occurred because someone thought they were better than the rest.

It was why she had asked him that particular question 'Explain why Purebloods are better than Muggleborns.' And how pleased she had been when he had failed to answer! It proved her point. She wondered whether it had been that question which had made him change, and hoped it was. It was pleasant to think she had made someone realise the error of their ways. And it was a refreshing change not to have Draco insulting them at every opportunity. Oh, sure, he still called her names on occasion, but they both knew he was only pretending to mean it. 

She was glad, also, that the Glacios curse had been broken. She wished she knew the cure. And she wanted to know what Draco had read that had shocked him so. It must be something vitally important, from the look of disbelief on his face. If it had been something he had simply not wanted her to know, his face would have gone blank. She had worked with him long enough to realise this. But whatever he had read had been so surprising he hadn't even thought to hide it from showing on his face. She wanted to know what it was.

And so it was when Harry and Ron came in, she found herself telling them how the Glacios curse had been broken – something she wouldn't have told them if they hadn't known about the curse already, for it was Draco's business. And she told them about the book, and how Draco had seemed so shocked at what he had told her was 'nothing'. And before their visiting time was over, she had asked them to go find the book, read the entry, and tell her what it was Draco had found so shocking.

~*~

'Found it yet?' Ron asked Harry for the third time in five minutes. The two boys were hunting through the Defence Against the Dark Arts section, trying to find the book Hermione had told them of. 

'No.' Harry replied from around the corner. The book wasn't in its place alphabetically, and they were beginning to worry that the book had not been returned to the library.

'We'll look for a few more minutes, then we'll have to give up.' Harry added. The library was almost deserted, and the afternoon sun slanted through the large windows, catching the dust motes in its amber light.

What could it be? They didn't know Draco as well as Hermione did, but they knew he didn't shock easily. It was as their own curiosity as much as Hermione's request that kept them looking.

Time passed slowly, until Ron made a discovery.

'I think I've found it!'

Harry hurried over. '_Dark Curses: A Guide_. That's it!' The two sat at the nearest table, and hurriedly turned to the correct page.

'It doesn't say anything.' Ron said. 'Just a load of rubbish about how it works and who invented it.'

'It continues over the page.' Harry said absent-mindedly, reading the information more carefully than Ron in case there was something he had missed.

'Well turn it over!' Ron said impatiently. Harry read the final paragraph, and turned the page.

The boys read the cure with much the same degree of disbelief that Draco had done.

'It… Malfoy…what?' Harry spluttered. 'You do realise what it says.'

Ron nodded, rather white-faced, and closed the book. There was a moment of silence.

'We can't tell her.' Ron said. Harry nodded slowly.

'If she and him ever…' he waved his hands vaguely in the air, 'It would be a disaster.' He concluded.

'Would she ever?' asked Ron. Harry looked thoughtful. Some of the colour was slowly coming back to his face.

'They do spend a lot of time working together …' he said at last. 'Who knows?'

'We have to keep them apart.' Ron decided. And so began a frenzied fifteen minutes of planning.  

A Slytherin would not have approved of their planning methods. They would require a more sophisticated method than notes untidily scribbled on a piece of scrap parchment. They would have despaired of their methods of keeping Draco from getting an opportunity to tell Hermione he loved her, deeming them incapable, in the long term, of working. They would most likely have torn up the paper in despair, muttering something about 'imbecilic Gryffindors', and made their own plan.

But after quarter of an hour, their plan was complete. The paper was covered with such important details as the times and places he could talk to her on their own, and more importantly what they could do to ensure that he didn't get chance to tell her.

'Are you sure this will work?'

'We can only hope.'

~*~

**A/N:** Personally, I don't like that chapter much. But I want to know your opinion!__


	11. Deceptions

Deceptions

**Disclaimer:** Is it really necessary to say I don't own it? Ok. *sigh* I. Don't. Own. It. Is that ok?

**A/N:** Thanks to: Arial, Demonstar (x10), HPFre4k, Neptuna, DemonBlade, CrystallineLily, Rebecca, SophieBabe, f0xyness39, C, gee, Adi, MoonDancerCat, kalariah, KAOS, Weasley Pride, Rei, mystic-flower, Mirei, FairieDust, Sanaria, PsYcHoJo, Vanillastar, Elica Park, JoeBob1379, The-Almighty-NailBunny, DracosAngel, shibbydragongirl, MoonTrail, Natasha, Cataliana_14, heavengurl899, aime, firey fairy, hyper_shark, silverhaired_slytherin, L. Meylan, Arafel, jennieslife (x2) googoo4you, JAMTillDawn, lil' dudette, Raven Black, WhiteLady, Reader, Akuma Kanada no Tenchi, depth, Xtreme Nusiance! 

You're all brilliant – thank you for getting me to 388 reviews! Believe it or not, I have absolutely no confidence in my own writing – thanks for giving me some!

Things I put in italics got kinda messed up, so I've changed those parts to bold to make it clearer.

I realise this section of the story is a bit… slow moving. Think of the story like a roller coaster – you have your terrifying drops, the ups and the downs, and the gentle scenic bits to lull you into a false sense of security. Don't worry – just when you aren't expecting it, I'll turn the story round a sudden corner, and send you screaming down an extremely steep drop.

~*~

Hermione was not let out of the Infirmary until breakfast the following morning. Hungry, she went down to the Great Hall to find Harry, Ron and breakfast.

'Hermione!' Ron exclaimed around a mouthful of sausage. 'Good to see you out.'

'Madam Pomfrey finally gave in.' she smiled, taking a seat between her two friends, and reaching for the toast.

'Pity she didn't keep you in through Potions. It's next lesson.' Harry gave her a sympathetic look, and passed her the pot of strawberry jam. Strawberry was her favourite.

Ron's smile suddenly disappeared. 'You didn't have any…er… visitors last night?' he asked. On Hermione's left, Harry's eyes widened.

Hermione frowned. 'Lavender and Parvati came again. They said they feel guilty about not waking up when I was kidnapped. I told them I didn't even wake up until we got to the Manor, but they wouldn't listen.' She smiled at her two roommates, sitting a few places down the table. They waved back, beaming to see her out again.

'Anyone else?' Harry asked urgently.

'Erm… Ginny came at one point, but I think she was looking for one of you two.' She gave Harry a very pointed look, and then broke into a laugh. Ginny's crush was a long running joke between the three of them.

But neither of them were laughing. Instead, the two of them were sharing an urgent look behind her beck.

'What's wrong with you two?' she asked.

Ron industrially cut into his fourth sausage. 'Nothing!' he said.

'Nothing at all.' echoed Harry.

Hermione folded her arms. 'I have been your friend,' she began, in that tone of voice all females possess and use when dealing sternly with the opposite sex, 'for four and one-third years. I know you well.' She shook a finger at them in a bout of playful over-acting, 'You two are up to something.'

'Whatever makes you think that?' asked Harry.

'We are as innocent as…as… as something very innocent.' Ron assured her.

'A baby! As innocent as a little baby.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and, had there been room at the table, would probably have put her hands on her hips. 'You two don't know the meaning of innocent!'

'Of course we do!' Ron said in mock outrage. 'Innocent, adverb...'

'It's an adjective, Ron.' Hermione sighed.

'Same thing. Innocent, adjective, meaning blameless or not guilty. See! I do know what it means!'

Hermione rolled her eyes, and bit into her toast.

~*~

Potions passed with no mishaps, other than Neville messing up his potion. He had become a lot better with the theory, but his fear of Professor Snape combined with his clumsiness tended to result in disaster.

Hermione had been paired with Ron as they made their Timiditas potion. Made correctly, this potion made people more timid and easily frightened, and had been used a lot in the Middle Ages when questioning people. Those who feared you were more likely to give up information without the need for… painful coercion.  It had been, in the end, a kindness.

Hermione tried not to think about the uses of this potion in the past. Looking up, she noticed Ron acting rather strangely. She frowned. Those two were definitely up to something!

Ron kept glancing sideways, watching someone suspiciously on the other side of the room. She followed his eye line. He was watching Draco. She frowned in puzzlement, carefully chopping her sunflower petals. Could Ron still suspect Draco of something? Why? It didn't make sense. Draco had saved her life when Harry dropped her, after all. And come on the rescue mission. Why he had, she did not know. It seemed like a very un-Draco thing to do.

Glancing sideways again, she saw Draco glancing over at her table. Harry, a table in front glanced at him, and then at Ron. Ron glanced back, and then at Draco again, who was still glancing in her direction. Those two were definitely up to something. And it involved far too much glancing.

~*~

Harry and Ron had realised that there was one place they couldn't 'protect' Hermione from Draco, and that was in their Runes lessons. Their hopes hung on the fact that there were probably too many people around for romantic heartfelt confessions of love. Hopefully.

Hermione, of course, knew none of this. She knew something was going on, but had come to the conclusion that Harry and Ron simply still didn't trust Draco. She hoped they got over it soon.

The Runes lesson was very noisy, the students chatting as they translated the story. Professor Scripta bustled around the class, doing relatively little to keep the noise down. But the work got done, slowly but surely. 

Oddly, there was a rather uncomfortable air between Hermione and Draco. Hermione still didn't know why Draco had gone on the rescue mission; thinking about it was driving her mad. Draco had too many secrets. She found herself thinking wistfully of the easy, open friendship she had with Harry and Ron, the way she could always tell what they were thinking just by looking at their faces, the friendly laughter they shared over private jokes, the many memories of long evenings spent by the fire in the common room, faces flushed from heat, eyes sparkling as they worked or talked together.

Draco was different. She did not know his secrets, and his face was as illegible to her as a book written in Latin – some things she could make an educated guess at, others were a complete mystery. And, she realised with a jolt of surprise, she had never seen him laugh. Or even smile really – the kind of smile that lights up your whole face, making others around you want to laugh and run and dance. He was as strange to her as some foreign land, barely studied, and the most frightening part was that she found herself wanting to know this other land as well as home.

She chanced a sideways look at Draco, only to find that he was doing the same. Quickly, face already turning red, she turned back to her work.

There was a moment's silence.

'Feeling better?' he asked casually.

'Yes, thanks.' she replied. She longed to ask him about why he had helped to rescue her, but somehow didn't quite dare.

The lesson passed slowly, as lessons always do. Eventually, Draco and Hermione started talking, about such meaningless clichés as books and weather.

And the Laekalia.

**_'Zyax.' whispered Azura, hearing his breathing behind her in the dark night._**

**            He made no reply, but wrapped his arms around her. 'Found you.' His lips tickled her ear as he whispered. She sank into his embrace for a moment then pushed him away.**

**            'We can't Zyax.' She couldn't meet his eyes. 'You're Tenebrae, I'm Clachan. We've been at war for centuries…' **

**            But she drifted into silence, because she had looked upwards into those ever-changing eyes, coloured to suit his mood. And now they were sugared pink, the pink of rosebuds in spring. The pink of love.**

**            She found she could not speak, but suddenly his arms were around her, her head on his chest. And then, with all the beauty and gentleness of a snowdrop in spring, they were kissing…**

            'Told you so.'

            'Sssh! This is the romantic bit.'

            'Whatever. You owe me five Galleons.' Draco smirked, but without malice.

            'No I don't, you cheated because you'd already read it.'

            'Yes you do. You should have checked before you made the bet. Hand it over, Hermione. Five Galleons.'

            Grumbling something rude about Slytherins, Hermione dug out the money from her purse, where she had exactly five Galleons, safely kept against such an eventuality.

            Draco counted the money. 'You're a Sickle short.' he proclaimed.

            Hermione groaned. 'Well you'll have to wait; I haven't any more money till next week.'

            Draco didn't say anything to this. Hermione sighed, and went back to translating the scene, eager to know what happened.

            **Azura sighed contentedly, and wrapped her arms tighter around her newfound love…**

            There was a chink of coins on the table next to her, and she turned her head to see Draco putting two Galleons and eight Sickles on the table.

            'I'll take half of it now, and you can pay me the rest later.' he said. 'Honestly, Hermione, if you don't have enough money, you shouldn't bet!'

            Hermione stared at the small pile of coins. 'You mean it?' This was surely not normal behaviour for Draco.

            'Just think yourself lucky I'm not charging interest.' he teased, turning back to the work.

            Hermione frowned, before going back to the translation.

            ~*~

            Harry and Ron crouched behind a bookcase, wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak. They listened intently to the conversation going on between Hermione and Draco, sitting at a table in front of them with their books open and laid out neatly on the desk.

            'How on earth did you get into the Gryffindor common room anyway?' Hermione asked, smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear while scribbling away with her favourite quill.

            'I bribed someone to tell me the password.' Draco replied evenly. Hermione glanced up, half-indignant and half-amused. 

'You bribed someone?'

            'Yes, it's a time-honoured way of getting information.' 

            She shook her head in disbelief. 'Sometimes I think you can't do anything worse. And then you do.'

            'I am a Slytherin.' He reminded her with a teasing smile.

            Hermione frowned. 'Okay, as you know the password to our common room, you have to tell me the password to yours.'

            'And what will you use it for?' asked Draco, an eyebrow raised. 'Sneaking into the boys dormitories? I know Goyle's irresistible, but…'

            He was cut off by a small shriek from Hermione, who looked mortified. 'Goyle!' she spluttered.

            'Or maybe you prefer Crabbe?' He watched her reaction with an amused expression. 'Oh calm down Hermione, I was only teasing.' He leant over and whispered in her ear.

She smiled and nodded. 'I won't tell anyone.'

            'Really? I would.'

Harry nudged a bristling Ron aside so he could see better. Hermione began furtively scribbling, a few strands of loose hair falling back down to block her from sight. Draco picked up his own quill, from where it had rested exactly parallel to the book, and settled back to work.

            There was silence in the library, save for the scratch of quills on paper. To Ron and Harry, crouched behind the bookshelves, it looked like a strange composition of opposites. Hermione's warm brown hair contrasted strongly with Draco's cold silver, but both had heads bent over their work, scribbling furiously. One was Slytherin, one Gryffindor, but they seemed so alike as they worked. They had similar habits – biting their lip over a tricky problem, frowning as they worked something out, a small smile of satisfaction as the answer came to them. These expressions were so familiar on Hermione's face, but on Draco's they seemed alien and abnormal, which only served to make the two Gryffindors surer of their plan.

            It was a strange and uncomfortable silence.

            ~*~ 

            **A/N:** Reviews are welcomed, Compliments enjoyed, and Constructive Criticism practically torn off the page with glee :)


	12. The Greater of Two Evils

The Greater Of Two Evils 

**Disclaimer: **All characters and places belong to J.K.Rowling. The Glacios curse and plot belong to me! Hands off!

**A/N:** 422 reviews! Thanks to: BriDee (x4) animegurl, Vanillastar, RiarAille, KAOS, Cinnamon, kalariah, StarJade, Starlet, Queen of the Roses, Katmillia, MoonDancerCat (x2), Rebecca, Raven Black, Lydia Gotven, CatalinaRose, tears fall softly, MoonTrail, Monou Kotori, C, shibbydragongirl, akima, hyper_shark, Anon, Redstrawberry900, Malexthehedgehog, CrystallineLily, Goddess-Isis-112, Adi, Katrina, Weasley Pride, ce, Mimi Ishida, sk8ergurl, JoeBob1378, Safiya and zoogerbas1!

~*~

Days passed, and miraculously Harry and Ron's plan was still working. Draco had tried to tell Hermione a few times, but the two Gryffindors had always stopped him. It seemed to Ron and Harry that he was indecisive about whether he should tell her or not, and only attempted to when he got the courage. They were partly right: he was undecided, but courage had nothing to do with it. He attempted to tell her when his heart was winning the internal battle that went on whenever she was near, when his head was simply so fed up of the argument that it would do anything to end it. The heart never got fed up.

            Hermione was getting slowly more and more irritated at Harry and Ron. They almost seemed to be stalking her; offering to walk her everywhere, and finding some excuse to follow her if she refused. When she had been sent a letter from home, they demanded to know who it was from, almost hysterically. After every Runes lesson they crowded around her, asking what had happened, what she had talked about with Draco. It was driving her up the wall. What was wrong with them? Even if they were just worried about her working with Draco, they had never been this panicky about him before she had been kidnapped. They could not possibly think he was a danger to her, not after he had helped in the rescue. There was something she didn't know about. It was the only explanation.__

~*~

Hermione sped into the library like a whirlwind, ten minutes later than the time they had agreed to meet. Draco was lounging in their usual spot, his papers spread out tidily on the table before him.

'I've been waiting.' he said reproachfully.

Hermione slid into the seat next to him, and began pulling out her things. 'Sorry.' She said. 'Ron and Harry were holding me up.' She pulled out the quill Harry had given her for Christmas, and glanced at the empty parchment in front of Draco. 'Didn't you do any while you were waiting?'

'I wasn't expecting you to be this late.' he said, raising a disapproving eyebrow. 'And I didn't know which pages we were translating.'

'You ought to have written it down!' Hermione exclaimed.

'I did, but then I lost the parchment I wrote it down on.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You boys are all the same.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?' He looked amused

'You're always forgetting things and losing things...' Draco cut her off before she could get fully into her vendetta.

'I resent that. Have I lost anything else before?'

'Well, no...'

'Precisely.' He leant back in his seat. 'So which pages?' he prompted.

Hermione grudgingly told him. '156 onwards.'

They scribbled in silence for a few moments, the translation taking dominance in their thoughts. 

'So... How was your day so far?' asked Hermione.

'Pretty good actually.' said Draco, dipping his quill in the inkpot. 'Apart from Transfiguration. Surprise test.' He frowned.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. 'What? A test?' She looked vaguely panicked. 'What was it about? Was it hard?'

Draco smiled in spite of himself. If he had been the kind of boy who was at all romantic, he would have thought something along the lines of how sweet she was when she got worried about schoolwork, and possibly added something about warm and fluffy butterflies. But he wasn't, and he didn't. 'Don't panic. It was pretty easy.' he told her.  

She looked rather less worried, but still said, 'I should do some revision just in case…'

'Don't you think that rather spoils the point of a surprise test?'

Hermione considered this. 'Well yes but... oh I'm going to be nervous for the whole day!'

'When's your next lesson?' he asked casually, scribbling down a rune.

'Last thing today.'

'Well you wont be nervous for too long.' He reassured her. There was a pause. Tell her now! some part of him said. Get it over with! What's the worst that could happen?

The worst was actually quite bad, when he thought about it. He drew a deep breath, berating himself because Malfoys weren't supposed to need deep breaths.

'Hermione?' he asked.

'Yes?'

'I...' Curse it, they weren't supposed to lose the power of speech either! 'Do you...'

Harry and Ron burst out from round the corner.

'Hermione! There you are!' exclaimed Harry, as the two boys slipped into the seat opposite. His wide smile seemed rather fake.

'We've been looking all over for you!' added Ron

'I thought you were practicing Quidditch?'

'It... er... we couldn't. Someone else was using the field.'

Hermione looked out of the nearest window. 'I can't see anyone.'

'Oh, they must have gone!' said Harry, his fixed grin never slipping. 'Lets go, Ron'

The two boys left as quickly as they had come, leaving the two staring after them.

'That was... weird. As I would expect.'

'Strangely enough, I have to agree with you.' said Hermione, staring with furrowed brow at the corner around which they had disappeared. The two worked silently for a minute or so.

'What were you going to say before Harry and Ron barged in on us?' Hermione asked eventually.

'Well...' Draco began, pausing to amass his nerves. 'I was going to tell you... ask you...'

In a bizarre moment of déjà vu, Harry and Ron ran in again. Hermione stared at them, bewildered. 'What are you doing here?' she asked.

They looked rather blank.

'We forgot to...' began Harry

'To ask you... what you were doing tonight!' Ron finished.

Hermione looked sceptical. 'Same thing I do every night. Work, followed by sitting around the fire talking. Why?'

'Er, we were going to ask you to play chess.' Ron invented.

'It's no fun playing against Ron because he always wins.' Harry added.

'Harry, I always beat you as well.'

Harry floundered. 'Yes, but you're more fun to play against because I come closer to winning.'

'So will you?' Ron prompted.

Hermione was rather bewildered. 'Sure…'

'Good. See you later!' Harry grinned, and the two hurried off. In the wrong direction.

Draco shot a suspicious glare after them.

'Those two are up to something.' Hermione said in an irritated tone.

'Yes, they are.' 

            They continued talking quietly, as normal, about nothing in particular, when Hermione spotted a doodle on the corner of his paper. 

            'Hey, what's that?' she asked, reaching out to pull the paper closer. He tried ineffectually to push it away, but she pulled it around to see a small but detailed drawing of what appeared to be a manticore, its fearsome stinging tail raised and ready to strike.

            Hermione glanced upwards to see Draco frowning at her in a rather sulky way that made him look about eight. 

            'I was only doodling.' he protested. 'And I know it's really bad, and…'

            'It's not bad!' she exclaimed. 'It's really good.'

            'It's not.' he argued. 'It's only a doodle. And I messed up the head.'

            Hermione peered at the manticore's head. 'It is a little wonky. But it's a lot better than I could do.'

            'Is it?' Hermione noted the tone of pride in his voice. She had an idea.

            'Yes it is. Close your eyes a second.'

            'Why?'

            'Just do it.'

            Obediently, Draco closed his eyes. Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket.

            'Vividus.' She muttered, and watched, hoping it was done right… Slowly, the manticore began to move, at first as if through some viscous liquid, but then smoother and freer. It slammed its tail down and thrashed fearfully.

            Hermione pushed the drawing back in front of Draco. 'You can look now.' she said, voice full of excitement. He opened his cool grey eyes, and looked at the picture.

            'It's a bit more violent than I'd have thought.' he remarked.       

            'It certainly is.' Hermione remarked, watching it thrash. The runes around it remained quite still, seeming almost apologetic for the behaviour of their ink-brother.

            'It'll calm down.' Draco sounded remarkably sure of himself. 'Thanks.'

            Hermione glanced up from the doodle in time for her eyes to be captured by Draco's. He was smiling, a faraway smile that didn't belong on his face, and she found her breath caught in her throat.

            There was a rustle, and a muffled cry from around the corner. She tore her eyes away, and glared angrily at the bookshelf the noise had come from.

            'Who's there?'

            But now a horrendous smell was filling the area. 

            'Dungbomb.' Draco choked, his nose wrinkling elegantly. Hermione burst into a loud coughing fit.

            'Lets… get out… of here.' She spluttered. Draco grabbed their things, and they left for an area of the room with a more pleasant aroma.

            A few seconds later, they were followed by the sound of two pairs of footsteps.

            ~*~

Dinnertime that day was to prove ominously fateful, although from the familiar scene Hermione saw as she entered the dining room late, you would never have guessed it. It was just like any other day; the chatter of many voices forming into a single wave that filled the hall and echoed faintly. The clouds on the ceiling swirled a gentle grey in a pale blue winter sky. Thinking back on it later, she would remember a faint feeling of strong magic, and the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Hermione hurried down between the tables, taking her usual seat across from Harry and Ron, who were stuffing their faces as usual. She heaped her plate with sausages and gravy, and ate hungrily.

It was about five minutes later that, without so much ceremony as an eerie wind or suddenly extinguishing candles, that the first dark cloaked and hooded figure appeared. Hermione frowned in puzzlement – what was going on? And how had they Apparated… But then more and more figures materialised, and with a sudden cold sickening Hermione realised.

Death Eaters.


	13. Engraving The Hate

Engraving The Hate 

**Disclaimer:** If you haven't realised by now, I don't own them. J.K. Rowling owns them.

**A/N:** OVER 500 REVIEWS! A million thanks go to: SophieBabe, some random person out there, jmcb, CatalinaRose, Kaos, Aniron, hells (x2), tears flow softly, Cinnamon, wishing star, Rebecca, The Dragon Guardian Of The Sea, C, Butterfly, CrimsonNSassy89, Raven Black, MoonDancerCat, AideeEight, Katie Cricket, Kylee, heavengurl899, MysticalStormz, Talena, Moon Trail, mione cuties, Anon, BlueStariNight88, Mirei, Starlet, Dragonsbane, SyaoranGirl, CrystallineLily, Jokaroo, WhiteLady, angkat14, hyper_shark, QiNg, kalariah, firey fairy, Goddess-Isis-122, somebody,  DemonBlade, Lydia Gotven, Pheonix_song23, Gooey Gooey Coca Beans, HpFre4k, googoo4you, JoeBob1379, Queen Li, Riverchic1998, Hp1fan, f0xyness39, Nellie-chan (x2), Amo il Ragazzo (x3)!

            This chapter is slightly earlier than usual, also slightly longer. The reason it's early is partly because I was afraid of my readers going insane from suspense, and partly because I'm going to stay with my sister and won't have access to a computer. The reason it's long? I got carried away. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

            ~*~

            Someone screamed, breaking the spell of horror that hung over pupils and teachers alike. Those children nearest the door made a break for safety, but a wave of a wand from one of the cloaked Death Eaters cut off their escape.

            Chaos broke out. The Hall suddenly filled with screams and flashes of light. Hermione jumped to her feet, but the bench beneath her was suddenly overturned, catching her legs and sending her to her knees. What was happening? How…? She opened her eyes to see her schoolbag in front of her, wand sticking out of a pocket. She grasped it firmly and stood.

            'Harry? Ron?' she shouted, but they were lost in the chaos. A sudden fear grabbed her. What if they were injured? Lying somewhere hurt? Dying? What if they were dead? What if…?

            But there was no time for fear. To her right a Death Eater stood, wand pointed at a Hufflepuff first year.

            'Petrificus Totalus!' she shouted, and the man toppled to the floor. 'Run!' she called to the frightened girl, before turning to find another minion of Voldemort. A mixture of hatred and adrenalin charged through her veins. Behind her, a second cloaked figure performed the counter curse, waking his unconscious partner.

            Hermione didn't notice, for only now did she realise that against all odds, Hogwarts was winning. The Death Eaters knew more curses, to be sure, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. They had gravely underestimated Hogwarts. They hadn't expected the children to fight back. Her face curled into a grim smile, and she ran forward through the chaos.

            All around her, curses and counter-curses were flying through the air. She shot a 'Stupefy!' at a Death Eater, releasing his victim from the Cruciatus curse, and flew on, her eyes roving the hall for any of her friends. 'Harry? Ron?' she shouted. 'Draco? Lavender? Parvati?' She was mainly worried about Harry – Voldemort was out to kill him particularly. But now she realised that Draco may be in danger just as great. Hadn't his father tried to kill him before…? 'Harry? Draco?' she shouted again. But she could see none of her friends. Angrily, she shot a curse at a convenient Death Eater, and ran on.

            A minute later, she spotted Draco. He was leaning against a wall, just inside an alcove that was almost impossible to see into unless you were at the right angle. As she watched, he pointed his wand almost lazily, and a Death Eater tumbled to the floor. He looked like he was enjoying himself. Typical Draco. She smiled to herself, and hurried over. His eyes lit up with recognition.

            'Hermione.' He stated. 'Are you alright?' He stood aside, letting her past him to the safety of the alcove. He turned to face her, the light from behind silhouetting him, shining through his silvered hair and shadowing his face

            'I'm fine.' She assured him. 'What about you? Do you know how the Death Eaters got in? And have you seen Ron or Harry? Are they alright?'

            The alcove was larger than it looked, almost large enough to be a small room if a door was added. She mentally flicked the pages of Hogwarts: A History, and remembered that there were two such alcoves, one on each side of the hall. Their use was widely disputed, ranging from a place to keep bookshelves to an entryway to a hidden passage. One thing was for certain – it was a great place to hide in and attack enemies. 

            Draco looked mildly irritated. 'I saw them a minute ago, and they were both fine, so don't start panicking. As for the Death Eaters, I don't know. They must have broken the spells that stop you Apparating.'

            They stood together for a few minutes, far enough inside the alcove to avoid being seen, and cursing anyone who came close enough. Numerous Death Eaters saw their downfall at their hands. Unfortunately, it only took an 'Enervate' to wake the unconscious, or a quick counter curse to cure most of the curses. 

            'I wish I'd had…' he began, but stopped suddenly.

            'Had what?'

            'Oh, nothing.' He said. Hermione could tell it was most definitely something, but he didn't want to tell her. 'Just… something that can protect you, but it only works if you hold it.' he explained.

            Hermione decided to take this as her answer, knowing that Draco was unlikely to give up information he didn't want to give.  

            But then another voice entered the conversation, a man's voice, similar in tone to Draco's but blackened, darkened. Draco turned his head sharply. And standing just outside the doorway of their little alcove was Lucius Malfoy.

            He raised his wand almost lazily, reminding Hermione of how Draco had cursed the Death Eaters only minutes before. Before she could react, he had calmly disarmed her. She watched sadly as her only method of defence flew to Lucius's hand. She had to rely on Draco now…

            'Son.' said the man, in a voice that was neither welcome nor disgust, merely a simple acknowledgement of a fact. 

            'Father.' Draco said guardedly. She noticed him gripping his wand tighter, knuckles almost white.

            Lucius chuckled, taking a step inside the alcove. Draco stepped backwards, away from him. 'I admit that my first reaction to your little… adventure… was to think you had rebelled against our side.' His voice was cold, cruel. 'But then I realised your ulterior motive.' Hermione frowned. Ulterior motive? 'I must congratulate you on your cunning, Draco. The Dark Lord will be merciful. Now, come with me and fight for our side. The winning side.' 

            He held out a hand towards his son. Hermione was vividly reminded of that first day at Hogwarts, when Draco had done exactly the same thing, reaching out to pull Harry over to the Dark Side. The two boys had been so different, one dark haired and one fair, one kind and one cruel.

            But things had changed. The two people in front of her this time were almost identical in looks. Both pale, with identical hair and eyes. But there was a difference. Lucius's eyes were the same as Draco's, to be sure, but they were the cold eyes he had worn weeks ago, when she had glanced into his eyes and found ice. Draco's eyes had changed since then. Although she couldn't see them now, she knew how they would look. They had more warmth in them, and the boy that owned them was kinder.

            Draco's hand twitched at his side. _Don't do it!_ She thought. Don't give in to him…

            He stepped back. 'I think I'll fight for the school, thanks.' He raised his wand, but Lucius was quicker, and Draco's wand soon joined Hermione's in Lucius's grasp. Hermione felt sick with fear. What now?

'That was foolish.' Lucius said, in a dark whisper. He waved his wand, and Draco flew through the air to crash painfully against the harsh wall, and crumple to the floor. Hermione gasped, wanting to go to his aid but frightened to move. Her gasp attracted Lucius's attention.

            'Of course. The Mudblood.' His eyes narrowed, he raised his wand and before Hermione could react she was in a world of Cruciatus-induced pain. She remembered it dimly from her kidnapping, but dulled memory could never live up to the real thing, and it hurt like a thousand burning knives or being frozen alive and it hurts oh it hurts stop it stop it!

            A faint voice filtered into her painful world, a low, calm voice.  'Leave her alone.'

            The pain vanished, and she opened her eyes to see Draco, half sprawled on the floor where he had fallen, pushing himself up to his feet. Lucius's eyes narrowed, glaring at his son.

            'Caring makes you weak.' He hissed, and threw him against yet another wall. He barely had time to fall to the floor before he was thrown through the air again, this time hitting close to Hermione. He fell almost on top of Hermione and reflexively she caught him. 

            Lucius looked murderous, a terrifying vision. 'So my son has been corrupted by the Mudbloods and Mugglelovers.' He spat. 'Crucio!' She winced, expecting the curse to be directed at her, but it was Draco whose face screwed up in pain. He didn't scream.

            She tightened an arm around him. His face was contorted with pain, such pain that even he could not hide it. It hurt her to watch. He looked so innocent, so young as he suffered. But she made herself watch, because if she didn't watch him she would have to look into his father's eyes, filled with frozen anger. She wanted to remember this. What he had done to his own son… how he had tortured them. She wanted to remember the exact look on Draco's face, so that she would never forget the evil of the Death Eaters. And so she watched, engraving his face onto her mind even as it tore at her heart.

            Minutes passed, and anger was replaced with worry. Extended use of the Cruciatus curse could cause madness, even death. How much more could Draco take?

            'You're killing him.' She said, glancing for the first time towards Lucius. Her voice, surprising it's owner with the pain and hatred it contained, broke the subtle silence that had settled over the alcove; a silence that had been filed with the cries and shouts from outside, and by the gasps of pain that Draco had not been able to suppress.

            'I know when to stop.' Lucius said with a black calmness. 'Although your concern is… touching.' He spat, with a look in his eyes that told her it was anything but. She shrank away from that glare, turning her head back to Draco. _Come on Draco. You can take it. Don't give up._ She was startled to feel a tear trickling gently down her cheek, and wiped it away quickly before Lucius could see it.  

            It seemed like an eternity passed in the soft darkness of that alcove. Draco half lying in her arms, suffering under the pain of Cruciatus. And then eternity ended, and Draco was released from the pain. His breathing was too fast and shallow, seeming to echo around the room and take up all her hearing. His eyes fluttered open, and she half smiled to see he was alright. Her eyes filled with concern, and he replied with a reassuring look. _I'm ok, _he seemed to be saying. _I'll be fine._

            Lucius still stood, watching them with narrowed angry eyes. Draco glanced towards him, frowning, and struggled to a sitting position. He slumped against the stone wall.

            'I would love to invite your Mudblood friend back to the Manor for a few torture sessions,' he began, smiling maliciously, 'but I fear we haven't the time. Say goodbye, Draco.' He lifted his wand, eyes gleaming with evil 'Avada…'

            Exactly what happened in those crucial seconds, Hermione never knew for sure. But when she opened her eyes, it was to see Draco half-kneeling in front of her, between Hermione and his father, in the direct line of the killing curse. She gasped in shock, but when he didn't fall over dead, looked over his shoulder.

            Lucius Malfoy lay on the floor, unconscious, and in the doorway stood a familiar redhead.

            'Ron!' she said, her voice strangely high and unsteady. 'You saved us!' 

            He hurried inside, and knelt down next to her. 'Are you alright?'

            'I… I'm fine.' Her eyes were pulled to Draco, who looked back at her with strangely numb eyes. He looked as if he hadn't fully grasped anything, and had gone very pale.

            'Draco?' she asked.

            'I…' he began, but suddenly swayed on the spot. He reached out a hand to steady himself. 'I…' Almost gracefully, he fell to the floor, Hermione just managing to catch his head before it hit the stone. 

            Ron gave her a questioning look. 'Cruciatus.' She told him, in a low voice. Ron nodded, and Hermione gently pulled Draco's head onto her lap. 'What now?' she asked in a low voice.

            'A group of first and second years are guarding all the unconscious Death Eaters. I'll take him over there.' Ron said, throwing a hate-filled look towards Lucius.

            'Right. But take our wands off him first. I'll stay here with Draco and attack anyone who gets too close.' She smiled a sad smile.

            'Are you sure?' Ron said doubtfully, looking worried. 'It would be better if you came and fought outside…'

            'I can't leave him on his own can I? Don't worry, I'll be fine.'

            Ron levitated the unconscious form of Draco's father, and handed Hermione the wands. He left, barely giving her time for a 'Thank you!'

            Hermione shuffled closer to the entrance, carefully, so as not to hurt Draco. Even unconscious, his face had a troubled look. His silver hair had fallen all over his face; she gently smoothed it away. His skin was soft, and his hair as light as a feather. Crimson blood marred some of the pale strands.

            Sighing, she turned her gaze to the outside world. The school looked to be winning. She could see no pupils hurt on the floor, and the Death Eaters were having a hard time trying to stay conscious, let alone fight properly. As she watched, she realised – the school was winning because they were working together. Slytherins organised ever more cunning ideas to catch the Death Eaters out. Hermione would bet it was one of them that had come up with the idea of having the first and second years guard the unconscious ones. Ravenclaws used their intelligence to help the planning, especially when things went wrong. They were always there with a smart spell or two. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors fought loyally and bravely for the school, always ready to take risks and pull off the plans beautifully. And when the plans went wrong, they were the ones in the line of fire who sorted things out. The teachers ran around, helping where things were going wrong and fighting as hard as they could. And it worked. Together, they were far more formidable an opponent than each house would have been alone.

            The battle went on for about ten minutes more, Hermione contributing a decent number of Death Eaters to the ranks of the unconscious, before Draco woke up.

            'Are you alright?' was the first thing she asked.

            'I think so.' he said. He tried to sit up, but his arm gave way and he fell back onto her lap. 'Apparently not,' She must have looked worried, because he added, 'but don't worry, I'll be fine when I've rested a bit. Are you alright?'

            'I'm fine.' she said, smiling.

            Minutes passed without much happening as the two watched the battle rage, Hermione taking the occasional shot at a Death Eater.

            'Where's my wand?' Draco asked. She gave it to him, watching as his hand curled stiffly around the end. 

            He sat up elegantly, in spite of the bruises and cuts from the walls, or the dull ache in your bones that remained after the Cruciatus. Hermione smiled to herself, glad that Draco remained essentially unchanged.

            They sat together for a while, doing what they could to help Hogwarts win the fight. When they talked, it was in quiet voices.

            'You know… back there with your father? When he tried to kill me, and you…'

            'Yes?'

            'It was really brave.'

            'Brave? It was more a…. reflex.'

            'I still think it was brave.'

            The battle wore on, colourful curses flying through the air. The Death Eaters were slowly pared down. Fourteen left… thirteen… eleven. It became obvious that Voldemort's minions could not win, and the realisation only drove the pupils to fight harder. 

And then, as suddenly as they had arrived, every single one of the Death Eaters vanished.

            They had won.

            The hall was silent for a moment, as everyone realised what happened. And then, like the breaking of a dam, everyone began shouting at once. Cheers, shouts, and the laughter of joyful reunions spread through the room, echoing from the enchanted ceiling.

            Hermione and Draco left the alcove together, making their way through the crowd, now even more chaotic than during the fight. Luckily Harry and Ron saw them, and hurried over.

            'Hermione, you're alright!'

            'I told you she was fine…'

            'I was really worried after Ron told me what happened!'

            They didn't get much of a chance to talk, because Dumbledore was standing up on one of the benches, and calling for silence.

            'Firstly I must ask if there is anyone seriously injured or dead.' He said, looking grave. Hermione glanced at Draco, wondering if he wanted to go to the hospital wing, but he gave her a gentle shake of the head. 

            No one spoke up, and Dumbledore smiled widely. 'Good. Today, as you are all aware, has been not just a test of our magic and intelligence, but also of our unity and co-operation. We could never have done this if we were not willing to put aside our differences for the sake of Hogwarts and fight side by side with those who were once our enemies.' Hermione could have sworn he glanced towards her. 

'I remind all of you, Gryffindors and Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, that you are first and foremost students of Hogwarts, and if you had not helped each other today you may not have survived.' He smiled even wider. 'Now, I am sure you all want to relax after the battle. I declare the rest of today to be a day off, so please return to your common rooms. Madam Pomfrey, if you would be so kind as to visit all the common rooms and make sure any injuries are seen to?'

            There was a great cheer from the assembled students, and then they poured towards the doors as one mass. Dumbledore gathered the teachers to begin about the long slow process of putting the school back in order. The Great Hall was in chaos, and the Apparition wards would have to be rebuilt.

            'Do you think you can get back to the Slytherin common room on your own?' Hermione asked Draco, knowing she was worrying pointlessly.

            'I'll manage.' he assured her

Someone who sounded suspiciously like Fred Weasley shouted 'Party in Gryffindor House!' 

Draco smiled at her. 'You go enjoy yourself. I'll be fine.'

Hermione looked doubtful, but turned and left with Ron and Harry. He watched her leave with a strange kind of sadness inside. As she reached the doors, she turned round and gave him a brilliant smile.

He smiled back, and slowly made his way to his common room.

~*~

**A/N:** So, what did you think? Review please! I'd like to know your opinion.


	14. Secrets Revealed

Secrets Revealed 

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters in this story. They all belong to J.K. Rowling. The only exception is the briefly mentioned Lauren, who is a friend I made on fanfiction.net, Amo il ragazzo. Lauren, put up a new chapter soon, or I will introduce you to my very angry basilisk… 

**A/N:** Thank you to all my reviewers for 576 reviews! KAOS, MoonDancerCat, dracoNmione (x2), CatalinaRose, sara, somebody, CrystallineLily, C, Queen Li, Incompetent Fool, DemonBlade, Weasley Pride, Aniron, Auraquilus, Rebecca, Katie Crickett, Sasha, foxyness39, The Dragon Guardian Of The Sea, CrazyCat, Paru-chan, Individual-9086 (x6) CousinYoghurt99, Anon, heavengurl899, Anon, nicole n, BlueStariNight88, Riverchic1998, Goddess-Isis-112, kalariah, smoo, hyper_shark, MiaMaria, Lorraine (x3), Italia12, aznlady (x2), hells, Butterfly, MysticalStormz, QiNg, JAMTillDawn, Elica Park, googoo4you, JoeBob1379, tears flow softly, StarJade, YA'KNOW, AideeEight, Silent Darkness, Raven Black, Katrina, Hp1fan, Xtreme Nuisance, mutsumi, cute089520, Anna*, Helena, animegirl-mika, bridges over De Dwarswetering, oceansun, mormonchick, Akuma Kanada no Tenchi, Amythest-Angel462!

A few people complained that the previous chapter was slightly unbelievable. I tried to make it as believable as possible, but I realise it may not have been. I added a bit to this chapter to try and reflect that. (And to MoonDancerCat who spotted a mistake in this chapter – it's been fixed. Thanks for pointing it out!)

I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

~*~

If there was one thing the Gryffindors knew how to do well, it was throw a party.

            All the tables that were normally dotted about the room were now pushed against one wall, laden with food requested from the kitchens. The house elves, remarkably, hadn't known of the battle raging above their heads. They had been quite distraught when Fred and George had told them, and had donated so much food to the Gryffindors that they had to use reduction charms to carry it all. The sofas and chairs had been pushed into one half of the room to create a dance floor across which enchanted music was playing, both muggle and wizarding. The fight seemed years away.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting on some of the sofas, eating such nutritious food as crisps, mini sausage rolls and those little sausages on cocktail sticks. They munched their food, swapping stories of the fight.

'I think we were really lucky to get away without anyone being killed.' Hermione said, dubiously nibbling a sandwich. 'I mean, Death Eaters against a bunch of kids!'

'Well there were a lot more of us than there were of them.' Harry pointed out. 'We outnumbered them about five to one after all. I don't think they expected to have to fight the pupils as well as the teachers.' He grinned with the satisfaction of winning the fight.

'And some people really ought to have gone to the hospital wing. I mean, Draco was really hurt.' Hermione added. 'He should definitely have gone.'

Draco was still a taboo subject with the boys. He might have changed, he might have stopped being so annoying, he might even love Hermione. But they still felt very dubious about trusting him. 

'So Ron,' asked Harry, 'what happened with that Death Eater?'

Ron had previously been giving a thrilling account of his fight. 'Well I knocked him out with a Stupefy.' he continued, waving his wand through the air to demonstrate. Unfortunately his gesture was slightly too wild and sent a jet of light flying through the air, just missing Seamus. 

'Sorry! Anyway, I turned my back for one moment to help Ginny out of a tight spot, and then there was this other one behind me! He nearly hit me with the Cruciatus. Would have done, too, if Ginny hadn't screamed and warned me. Anyway, we…'

He stopped short with a puzzled expression, turning his head to look round the room. A wave of whispers had grown up throughout the room, seeming to originate by the portrait hole.

'What's everyone whispering about?' he asked.

Hermione had heard that you could tell when certain people came near you, just by a feeling in the air or a twist in your stomach, but had never believed it. She didn't need a sixth sense, however, to be able to guess exactly who was causing all the commotion.

            Draco pushed through the crowds with an arrogant air, and sat down on the sofa next to her. 'Nice common room, I think I forgot to mention it last time I was here. Could use a bit more green, and I wouldn't want to stay in it personally, but I'm sure you find it very nice.'

            He seemed very unruffled, as if strolling into a common room full of people who hated not only his guts, but every single part of him as well, was something he did on a regular basis. 

            'What are you doing here?' asked Hermione     wearily. Harry and Ron simply stared, trying to decide whether to be furious or not.

            'Do you think the Slytherins can throw a half-decent party?' he asked with a raised eyebrow. 'Quarter of them are miserable the Death Eaters lost, half are just antisocial, and the rest are probably allergic to those sausages on sticks.' He stole one from Hermione's plate and ate it. He almost seemed to be enjoying himself.

            'Draco, you shouldn't be here, it's against the rules…' Hermione began, already in full prefect-to-be mode. Draco cut in.

            'I think the rules have pretty much disintegrated for tonight.'

            Hermione shook her head. 'You're completely hopeless. Everyone's staring.'

            'So?'

            Something about Draco's don't-careish manner made the corner of her mouth twitch. He was still a Slytherin through and through. A normal person wouldn't walk into a room filled with their enemies to gatecrash a party. A normal person would have been too afraid of getting into trouble, for example being thrown out of the tower window.  But Draco, egotistical, cunning, self-confident Draco – he could walk in like he owned the world.

            Her eyes settled on Fred and George, standing by the food-laden table. A sudden idea sprang into her mind, causing her to smile mischievously. After all, cunning ideas were not limited to Slytherins alone…

            'Of course.' She smiled warmly at Draco. 'Get comfortable, settle in – shall I get you some food?'

            She hurried off to the table, vaguely aware of Draco saying something about cocktail sausages. Returning a few minutes later, she found the three boys holding a rather stilted conversation about – what else? – Quidditch. 

            Draco accepted the plate of food with a polite thanks. Sunken deeply into the comfortable seats, there was an out-of-place feel about him that a paper plate of junk food did nothing to aid.

            He ate his food slowly and calmly. Hermione kept the conversation going, while surreptitiously watching him eat. Her eye fixed on an innocent-looking custard cream sitting on the edge of his plate.

            Harry followed her gaze. A look of incredulous delight came upon his face, and he gave Hermione a questioning glance. She replied with an innocent expression, as if saying, 'Would I do such a thing?'

            Two pairs of eyes watched the journey of the biscuit to Draco's mouth…

            There was a sudden squawk, and in the place where the Slytherin had sat only moments ago there was now a large yellow canary.

            The whole room burst into laughter. Questions were gasped out between bouts of hysterics – 'Who is it?' 'It's Draco Malfoy!' 'Malfoy? A canary?'

            Draco-the-canary looked mortified, and fixed Hermione with the most murderous glare ever to be seen in the eye of a bird. Hermione, as well as Harry and Ron, were helpless with laughter.

            'Sorry Draco…' she finally managed to gasp out. 'Couldn't… resist…' She took one glance at him and burst into a fresh fit of giggles.

            The canary squawked angrily, and looked for an instant self-pitying.

A few minutes later it had turned into an angry-looking Draco, his eyes blazing with a cold fire. For a second, it could almost have been the old Draco back again. It was a sight that could quiet the loudest of laughters.

            Hermione bit her lip, a guilty feeling stirring in her stomach. 'Sorry,' she said. 'I was just trying to have a joke…' 

            'You turned me into a canary.' Hermione glanced upwards, meeting his condemning eyes. She swallowed hard, and had to lower her gaze to the floor. She hadn't meant to annoy him so much… it was only meant to be a joke. She was painfully aware that the common room was silent around them. Could he forgive her? Please, please let him forgive. The thought of losing him as a friend was painful. Some part of her at the back of her mind cried out, a terrible fearful shout against the thought of losing him.

            She glanced upwards, steeling herself for the worst. To her utter surprise, she saw that a corner of Draco's mouth was twitching. She stared in utmost astonishment, and the silence was broken by what was probably the first thing resembling a laugh she had ever heard from Draco. The whole common room started talking at once.

            Hermione sighed an inward sigh of relief, reminding herself never to do such a thing again.

            Draco stopped almost straight away - after all, Malfoys didn't laugh. But he had a mischievous glint in his eye, definitely heralding a cunning plan…

            'Fine, I'll forgive you.' he said. 'But only because it was – and I'll admit it – a halfway decent plan. For a Gryffindor.'

            She snorted in mock outrage. 'Why, thank you.'

            'And,' he paused, 'You have to dance with me.'

            Hermione looked at him as though he were mad. 'Oh no. No way. I do not dance.'

            'You do now.' He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. As if on cue, a slow-sounding song began piping out over the dance floor. Ron made a move as though to stop them, but they were already dancing together, halfway across the room.

            The song playing was a slow and sweet one that Draco had never heard before - probably a Muggle song. The world began to fade away irritatingly. It shouldn't. That sort of thing only happened to idiotic people in books. But somehow the rest of the world was a blur. He was aware only of where their hands touched, of her deep eyes. They weren't 'eyes that went on to infinity' or any such ridiculous nonsense. They had a definite end. But they were amazing in their own way – full of the spark of life that defined Hermione. The enthusiasm, the happiness, the laughter. She had fire in her eyes.

             ~*~

            A pair of thoughtful green eyes watched them from the rear of the room. Harry was only paying half his attention to what Ron was saying, muttering nervously about how dangerous this was to their plan. What if he told her now?

            A strange feeling of guilt welled up as he watched the two of them dance. They looked almost like something out of a story, one of the ones for children with happy ever after endings. Although he doubted that any of those dances ever took place in a school common room with popular music blaring through speakers, the same feel surrounded them. 

            Did it matter that Draco had once been an enemy? He had saved Hermione's life goodness knew how many times. He wouldn't hurt her. Some part of his mind nagged at him, shouting 'This is Draco Malfoy!' but somehow things had changed. Hermione ought to be able to make her own choices. 

            By the time the dance was over, he had made up his mind. He watched as Hermione left Draco, parting with an unheard remark and a laugh. A giggling girl in the year below, whose name Harry vaguely remembered as Lauren, asked Draco for a dance.

            Hermione sank down next to Harry. He threw a furtive glance at Ron, who was still watching Draco suspiciously. He leaned towards Hermione, who had one narrowed eye on Draco as he and Lauren danced.

            'Can I talk to you in private later?' he asked as loud as he dared.

            ~*~

            The party went on for hours. Hermione and Draco danced a few times more, Ron turning angrier and more suspicious every time. When Draco wasn't dancing with Hermione, he seemed to find plenty of dance partners among the Gryffindor girls, Lauren included. Hermione would chat to Ron and Harry when she wasn't dancing, but every now and then she would forget herself and throw an irritated glance towards Draco and whoever his current partner was, until finally she walked over and had another dance.

            But now the party was all but over, and Harry and Hermione sat on one of the beds in the fifth year girls' dormitory (the rest of the girls were helping with clean-up, and having a very giggly time of it by the sounds drifting up the staircase). The dormitory seemed strangely quiet in spite of its bright colours. After the adrenalin rush of the fight earlier, then the spontaneous party, it seemed rather quiet and forlorn.

            Time seemed to have vanished for tonight. The only indicators that it was past midnight was the full moon shining through the window, and the muggle-style clock on Parvati's table, which was enchanted to give off a faint tick…tick…tick… even though it ran entirely on magic. 

            'So, what did you want to tell me?' asked Hermione. Harry glanced up, his emerald eyes a swirl of worry and concern and nerves. 

            'It's …something about Draco.' he said. 

            A strange worry gripped Hermione at the mention of his name. What was Harry going to tell her? 'What? Is he alright?' she asked without thinking. It was a natural reaction. 

            _Stop being so silly, Hermione, Draco can take care of himself…_

            'Yes, yes, he's fine.' Harry assured her. 'It's…'

            He looked up towards her, his face in conflict. Her friend's worry only scared Hermione more. What could be so bad to make Harry worry? Calm down, you don't _know_ it's bad. She hung on his every word.

            'It's… he loves you.' he finally said.

            It wouldn't be true to say that she heard her heartbeat suddenly thud louder in her chest. Because, while it certainly did beat harder, she didn't hear it. She _felt_ it, felt it pulse through her veins with the backbeat of life. Things seemed to be sharper and more faded at the same time, and conflicting thoughts turned her head into something resembling an impending apocalypse.

            '_What?_'

            'He loves you.' Harry wouldn't meet her eyes. He looked slightly embarrassed and extremely nervous, like a little boy in the head teacher's office to confess some wrongdoing.

            'No. No. _No_. Draco Malfoy? Me? You must be… completely _mad_.' Hermione shook her head. 'He _hated_ me…'

            'And now he loves you.' Harry said gently. 'I know it's hard to believe…'

            'But how do you know? He could be lying…'

            Harry sounded strangely resigned. 'It was in that book. The cure for the Glacios curse – it's to touch the skin of someone you love.'

            Hermione shook her head in confusion. How could this be? Draco had been her enemy for years. He had bullied her, insulted her. But… somehow those things belonged to a different Draco. Now he was just… Draco.

            'What do you feel?' Harry asked, a note of curiosity and urgency mixed in his voice. 'Do you…love him?'

            Did she? She tried to think, gathering her confused mind together. What was Draco like? He was… _him_. There was no way to describe Draco. He could be annoying but make you laugh at the same time, could be funny while being deadly serious. You never knew what he would do next – he was completely unpredictable. He had an air around him that simply stated, 'I am Draco Malfoy.' and left you to draw your own conclusions. Every day you found out something new, or saw some side of him you hadn't known before.

            Did she love him? How do you define love? She closed her eyes, searching deeply through herself. Draco loves you, she thought, and the words made a feeling of warmth inside. It wasn't like the warmth of the sun, or the warmth of a friendship. It was an invincible warmth, one that could climb mountains as if they were nothing, one that could travel to the ends of the earth.

            'Yes.' she said, opening her eyes. 'I do love him.'

            ~*~

            **A/N:** Review! The next chapter is the last, so get ready for some romance! There _might_ be a sequel, but I'd have to fit it in with schoolwork and other writing projects. The only reason I've been able to update this so frequently is that most of it was pre-written, and I don't know how long I'd take to update if it was a sequel. What do you think?


	15. Fire and Ice

Fire and Ice 

**Disclaimer: **For the last time (and it really is the last!) I don't own it.

**A/N:**  Happy Halloween!

Thank you for the 654 reviews! Catalina Rose, animegirl-mika, The Dragon Guardian Of The Sea, MoonDancerCat, Akira Gown (x14), Rebecca, aznlady, Queen Li, Erica Evans, KAOS, tears flow softly, SunLight, Crystalline Lily, Aniron, heavengurl899, CrazyCat, Goddess-Isis-122, Vanillastar, Dragonsbane, Akuma Kanada no Tenchi, Queen of the Roses, Hp1fan (x2), C, Anon (x2), BlueStariNight88, gohansfollower, Katie Crickket, Riar Aille, Sanaria, dracoNmione, Moonlight Dream Weaver, Individual-9086, angkat14, smoo, kalariah, hyper_shark, cute082590, Aidee Eight, Ladie-Voldemort, somebody, SophieBabe, SolaStar, SuSaMiNa, googoo4you, gee, firey fairy, JoeBob1379, Fiona (x3), MysticalStormz, White Lady, michelle, Christa, MoI, Sarah, Xtreme Nusiance, QuOtAta, Black Coffee, mormonchick, icy_flymn, mutsumi, Ferret Lover!

Update – The sequel is definitely going ahead! The address is at the end of the chapter.

I'd also like to note that nothing happens in this chapter other than what is clearly described *strews unicorns around* Ahem…

As I near the end of this story, I feel like being reflective. I've received an overwhelming response to this story, mostly positive (and as to the negative comments, well no one's perfect! And I can improve.) Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers who have given me their comments and open support! Possibly the best praise I can get is along the lines of 'You've helped convert me to a D/Hr fan!' 

~*~

            Hermione's first reaction to the Slytherin boys' dormitories was that they were almost devoid of light. There were windows, but the moon was behind a cloud, and any light that found it's way into the room was weak and pale. It cast a dull monochrome, turning everything into black-grey shadows. It quite suited the password – Tenebrae. Latin for shadows. She remembered Draco whispering it into her ear yesterday – a yesterday that seemed an eternity ago. She remembered the sound of his voice, lips almost touching her ear.

            Carefully, she picked her way along the rows of beds. There was Crabbe, looking a lot less menacing in sleep then in real life. Good – she was in the right room. She crept past as silently as she could, praying there were no creaky floorboards, and pulling the borrowed Invisibility Cloak closer around her.

            She felt strangely calm. She was nervous, yes, but it was not a panicky nervousness. It was a nervousness that seemed to say; _This might be hard, but I can do it._ It was as though this was just another Charms exam. Just another test that she knew she could pass.

            Which bed was Draco's? Well there was Crabbe, and Goyle, and another boy whose name she didn't know… The rest of the beds had their curtains drawn. Frowning, she moved uncertainly towards the one nearest Crabbe and Goyle, and pulled aside its emerald hangings.

            Her heart jumped into her throat. The blankets were pulled up past his chin, and his face was hidden in shadow, but the silver hair was a telltale sign. She paused, her breathing almost silent. He was so different asleep. When awake, he had a wide range of expression – from false innocence to a cunning grin, a teasing smirk or an angry glare or any number of others. But she had never seen him look quite like this. His face was relaxed now, and he wore a small smile. It wasn't a happy smile, but neither was it sad – it was almost a weary smile, the smile of someone who has seen both miracles and terrors, and to whom sleep is a welcome escape from reality at the end of an overlong day.

            She carefully closed the hangings behind her, making a minimum of noise, and pulled the cloak off her head. She turned back the bed, folding the cloak – and was faced with Draco, his eyes open and almost gleaming in the semi-darkness. She gasped in surprise.

            'Draco!' she exclaimed, barely managing to keep her voice to a whisper. 'I thought you were asleep.'

            'I was.' he said in his normal tone of voice, making Hermione quite afraid that someone would wake up. 'You woke me when you shut the curtains. Oh, and don't bother whispering. I put spells on the hangings in first year – no one can hear anything from inside them.'

            'You must have ears like a bat.' Hermione said, shaking her head. 'And why do you have silence spells?'

            He shrugged, evading the question. 'I might as well ask you why you're here. Come for your midnight liaison with Crabbe?' He grinned wickedly, turning over to face her properly.

            She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. It felt amazingly soft, almost like you imagine the clouds to be when you're a child, before you find out that all they are is water vapour. She recalled that the beds in Hogwarts were enchanted to be the perfect softness for whoever slept on them. Thinking about Draco's upbringing, in the luxurious rooms of Malfoy Manor, she wasn't surprised his bed was so soft.

'Don't be stupid.' she replied. She glanced down at him, where he watched her with calm eyes. 'Well I guess… the reason I'm here is that…'

She took a deep breath, and wondered how to phrase the earth-shattering knowledge that Harry had told her minutes before. 'Harry… Harry told me that… He told me what the cure for the Glacios curse was.' She finished in a rush, her stomach suddenly spinning.

She didn't dare look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on the hangings.

Draco's voice, when he spoke, was weary. 'Just forget about it Hermione. It doesn't matter.'

She turned towards him, but he had rolled over to face away from her, the blankets pulled defensively round him. 'No, Draco, it _does_ matter, I…'

'It doesn't.' His voice was rough now, with feeling he tried to hide but could not. 'Look, I know what you think. You could never love me back and I know that, and I was stupid to ever think you could. Forget about it. _It doesn't matter_.'

Hermione stared at his back, unprepared and unsure what to do. 'Draco, you don't understand…' she whispered. 'Draco, I…' A lump rose in her throat. This wasn't the way it was meant to go. She reached out to his shoulder, pulling him back to face her. 'Look, Draco, just listen…'

She broke off as she caught sight of his eyes. They were more full of emotion than she had ever seen before. A love, finally unmasked and in the open, and above that the most terrible sadness, the pain of never being able to have that which you longed for… It was almost heartbreaking.

She could have cried. She could have, but didn't. Instead, she leant down, and kissed him gently on the lips.

She hadn't quite known what to expect, and even if she'd had any idea, she wouldn't have thought it to be like this. He was gentle, hesitant almost. Startled at first, he gradually started to kiss her back, encircling her lightly with his arms. It was not the kind of kiss that made fireworks go off behind your eyes, or intoxicated you with desire. It was a kiss, pure and simple. It was _'I love you', _said without words, because she couldn't have found words to speak. And some things are so beautiful, so important, that they should not be dirtied with common words.

~*~

When Hermione awoke the next morning, the first thing she was aware of was warmth. The second, third and fourth things she was aware of were that the source of the warmth was Draco, that she was still in the Slytherin dormitories and that it was morning.

She felt a small smile play about her lips. What would people think! Hermione Granger, perfect student, abider by all rules… She kept her eyes tightly shut, savouring the warmth of the moment.

'Morning.' said a voice by her ear, sounding faintly amused. 'Sleep well?'

She opened her eyes, glancing into Draco's grey ones. They had a mischievous sparkle in them. 'Of course.' she replied. 

They stayed that way for a few minutes, neither speaking, for there was nothing that needed to be said. All that existed, all that mattered, was this one perfect moment.

'You'd better go.' Draco said reluctantly.

'Must I?'

'Would you rather wait here until one of the Slytherins finds us?'

'No.' Hermione sighed. 'You're right, I should go.'

She sat up, taking the Invisibility Cloak from the space beside the pillow where she had left it last night.

'I'll see you in Potions then.' she said, standing up and throwing the cloak around her shoulders, leaving her head floating in midair. Draco didn't bat an eyelid.

It felt a little flat and awkward, leaving like this. Like there was something left undone or unsaid… Hermione pulled the Cloak over her head to disappear completely, and opened the hangings in front of her. About to take a step into the now brightly-lit room, she paused.

Taking a deep breath, she half-whispered, 'I love you.'

Feeling thankful that the Invisibility Cloak hid her blush, she turned her head towards Draco. He smiled, a smile of nothing but simple happiness.

'I love you too.' he replied, sounding as if he had never said the words before. A sudden rush of warmth flowed through Hermione. Spontaneously and almost without thought, she bent over and planted an invisible kiss on his cheek, before reluctantly leaving for Gryffindor Tower.

~*~

The sunlight streamed through the east-facing windows, reminding anyone there to witness it that summer was almost here. It shone off the walls of the tower, making even their rough surfaces seem benevolent and welcoming.

Hermione walked through the corridors in a sort of daze, hardly noticing the sunlight that shone around her except as a reflection of her mood. She paused only to take off the Invisibility Cloak just before she reached the Fat Lady. 

'Ignis' she muttered, and was allowed in. She climbed the staircase slowly, pushing open the door to her dormitory with a feeling of welcome familiarity. Her thoughts were still in a mad whirl, like startled sparrows refusing to settle down.

'Hermione!' shouted Lavender upon seeing her friend enter the room. 'Where were you?'

Parvati ran up to her, still in her sky blue pyjamas. 'We were so worried! We thought you'd been kidnapped again, but when we asked Harry he said that he knew where you were and you were perfectly fine, but he wouldn't tell us any more however much we asked him, and we were really worried and Harry told us not to get so worked up about it.'

Hermione had to concentrate quite hard to catch all of this, as Parvati had a habit of gabbling long run-on sentences when excited or nervous.

'So where were you?' Lavender prompted again.

Hermione waved a vague hand at them, trying to figure out how best to phrase it. 'Oh, just…'

'Wait, don't tell me. It's the look in your eyes, you look all distracted and dreamy.' Lavender said. 

'You don't think?' asked Parvati dubiously. 'I never thought her much the type… she's more of a book person, no offence Hermione, but you are.'

'Would you please explain what you're referring to?' 

'_Boys_.' the two of them said together. Hermione felt herself blush. Was it so easy for them to read her expressions?

'Well, as a matter of fact…' she began, but was interrupted by the two girls, who could only be said to be squealing.

'Oh wow! Hermione!' Lavender practically launched herself at her neck in her impression of a hug. Hermione felt like she was being strangled. 

'Who's the lucky guy then?' Parvati wanted to know. Hermione felt herself go redder. How would they react? 

'Well…' she looked at the two girls expectant faces and mentally sighed. 'It's Draco.'

'Draco!' screamed the girls, sounding like a rather hyperactive echo.

'You can't be serious! Draco Malfoy?'

Hermione nodded mutely. 

'Oh my goodness!' Parvati say down on the nearest bed, looking quite shocked. Hermione swallowed. Would they condemn her for loving a Slytherin?

'You are without doubt,' began Lavender, 'the luckiest girl in the whole of Hogwarts!'

'I mean just look at him!'

'That silver hair!'

'His eyes are gorgeous!'

Hermione stopped feeling relieved and began to feel slightly annoyed. After all, it was her new boyfriend they were talking about.

'So, Hermione.' Parvati said, putting an arm around her shoulders. 'The eternal question - is he a good kisser?'

~*~

The midday sun was high over the lake, fulfilling its promise of a warm early summer day. The trees around it were proud in their fresh new foliage, which already provided shade for the various animals – both magical and non-magical – that made their home in the Hogwarts grounds. 

Draco, too, was glad of the shade. He sat by the edge of the lake, on a rocky bank that was nicely in-between two copses of trees. The trees offered both protection from the sun and a screen to hide him from the school. If you looked hard through the trees, the topmost turret of the Astronomy Tower was just visible, no more.

Such things had happened in the past two days, things he would never have thought possible. The Death Eater attack, then Hermione. When she had told him what she knew, an icy hand had gripped his heart, as though the Glacios curse had returned with a vengeance. He had thought she could never love him, had thought she had come to tell him – kindly, for that was always Hermione's way – that she didn't love him. But she hadn't. She loved him.

The news spread like the plague, and everyone had followed them with curious eyes and hushed rumours. But, surprisingly, no one was angry. The Slytherins, naturally, were curious about a Malfoy and a muggle-born together, but he had muttered some vague things about secret plans and world domination, and they left it alone. It was a tactic that always worked with Slytherins. He could burn the school down, and they'd still leave him alone if he made a vague reference to some plan they were no part of.

            Most of the Gryffindors had taken it well, as had the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He had a feeling Weasley – _Ron_ – wasn't all too happy. Hermione had said that Ron was against the idea, but together she and Harry had talked him round.  

He forced his thoughts back to the decision he had come here to make. In one hand Draco weighed the Malus Orbis thoughtfully. Yes, it offered protection. But was this object – a Dark object, after all, - the right way to go about getting it?

The lies of his childhood were gone, and for the first time Draco could listen to his sense of right and wrong. Maybe it would be better to keep the Orb. Maybe it could save his life. But would it be right? He had coveted it from the first moment he had learned its power. To avoid all but the most deadly of curses! Protection.

It was a Dark object, and he wanted nothing more to do with the Dark, with his father, with Voldemort. It was protection, yes, but at the price of his newfound morality. The merpeople, if they found it, would not let it get into the wrong hands. It would be safe.

Getting to his feet, Draco twisted the ball open. The single hair nestled inside it. He tipped the orb upside down, letting the hair float away in the gentle wind. Then, sealing it back together, he threw it as hard as he could into the lake.

It landed with a loud smack, scaring the birds from the trees, and for a moment Draco felt regretful. The peace of the place would always be underscored with the evil that lurked under the water. But then, wasn't life like that? There was always some evil waiting for you, something lurking. You just had to wait and watch.

Draco watched the ripples, as they spread out in rings. He watched them until they reached the shore he stood upon, then turned and went back to the castle.

~*~

THE END

~*~

**A/N:** I think that's the first time I've ever written 'THE END'. And that is indeed what it is, for now. What did you think of the last chapter?  Review!

            To read 'Darkness and Light', the sequel, please go to: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1064041


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